Variation on a Theme
by Kchan88
Summary: When Reid falls mysteriously ill while working a case in Princeton, New Jersey, he is sent to Dr. Gregory House and his fellows for a diagnosis. Both teams soon find themselves caught in an unsub's sick game, both in danger of losing one of their own.
1. Theme

Variation on a Theme

A Criminal Minds/House, M.D. Crossover Fan Fiction

A/N: Hello readers! Just a few notes on this fic. It's an AU, which I guess goes without saying. It takes place in the fifth season universe of CM, not very long after Haley's death, and in the sixth season universe of House, shortly after House's return from Mayfield psychiatric hospital, and he is with his original team, consisting of Chase, Cameron, and Foreman. However, for the premise of this story, the Dibala case never occurred, and Chase and Cameron are still together. I know that sounds a bit convoluted, but I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds or House, sadly.

Book 1

Chapter 1: Theme

_Love love is a verb/Love is a doing word/Fearless on my breath/Gentle impulsion/Shakes me makes me lighter/Fearless on my breath ~ Teardrop by Massive Attack (House MD Theme) _

Dr. Spencer Reid was not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, and feeling ill upon first awakening did nothing to help. His stomach had been waging a minor war against him since he'd opened his eyes, and he'd felt increasingly nauseated. To remedy his morning blues he stopped by the small coffee shop he'd started frequenting a few years ago. It was just down the street from the BAU, in the small marine base town of Quantico, and he went every morning aside from the days they were out on cases. Lately in fact, he'd been going twice a day if he could, because the new barista that had started two weeks ago made the best mochas Reid had ever tasted. He was due to a briefing concerning a case in New Jersey so he hurried in to grab the treasured cup of coffee before heading into the office, after which he would likely be hopping on the jet to Princeton, NJ. He was greeted by Kelly, the extroverted, friendly cashier who always worked the weekday morning shift. She reminded him of Garcia with her bright eye shadow, quirky jewelry, and bubbly personality.

"Good morning Dr. Reid!" she chirped. "Jetting off on any top-secret adventures today?"

"Might be," responded Reid with a laugh, placing a hand on his stomach as a small wave of nausea passed through. He waved to the new barista Samuel, who had started making the usual mocha the minute he'd seen Spencer out the window. "Not really looking forward to it though. It's too cold outside for my tastes."

"That's because you're made of bone!" Kelly answered, handing him back his debit card.

"Here you go Dr. Reid," Samuel said, smiling as he handed over the enormous mocha. "Made to order with the extra shot." His eyes shone with a strange sort of admiration, Reid noticed. He couldn't have been more than 20.

"Thanks!" Reid said. "You've got a talent for making these things. Just curious, but are you a student around here?"

Samuel nodded. "I'm studying psychology at Georgetown. Got this job to make ends meet, so to speak."

"Cool," Reid replied, retrieving his sunglasses from his pocket and sliding them back on. "Good luck with your studies. I'll see you guys again when I get back. Have a good day!"

"Good luck on the case!" Kelly called out.

Reid wrapped his dark purple scarf tighter against the chill and waved in response, allowing the taste of the coffee to momentarily flood his senses.

10 minutes later Reid walked off the elevator and toward the familiar glass doors of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. When he stepped through the door however, he felt a bit dizzy and found himself losing his balance. If it hadn't been for Morgan grabbing his coffee before it went sailing through the air, a minor disaster might have occurred.

"Unsteady on your feet this morning kid?" Morgan teased, a wide grin sliding onto his face. "Good thing I was here or that precious caffeine of yours would have been all over the floor."

"Guess I'm extra un-coordinated today," Reid conceded with a shrug of his shoulders, feeling a little unnerved at his odd combination of physical ailments, but not wanting anyone to notice. "Everyone in the conference room?"

"JJ is almost ready, yeah," Morgan said, looking more serious now. "It's looking like a bad one though. Child abduction."

"Never anyone's favorite," Reid mumbled, feeling tired as he followed his friend to the conference room where everyone else was already gathered. "Male or Female?"

"9-year-old-boy," Morgan answered with an angered shake of his head. "Snatched from his own front yard. Two boys of the same age have already been killed; the unsub held each of them five days before murdering him, so that gives us…four days."

"It's actually an advantage for us though," Reid replied as they entered the conference room, pulling his weathered messenger bag from his shoulder and placing it on the table. "74% of abducted by children are killed in the first three hours, so the fact that he seems to have created a pattern that gives us more time, that's pretty rare. And since 65% of abducted children are girls, this unsub goes against the norm, which helps us narrow it down."

He smiled at Emily as he sat down next to her and waved at everyone in greeting as Hotch closed the door behind him, looking more haggard than usual. Reid found his heart very much felt like it was beating far too fast, but thought it was perhaps from having too much caffeine.

Prentiss, ever perceptive, gazed at him with a concerned expression, her brows furrowed.

"You okay?" she asked, leaning closer. "Your pupils are a little dilated…"

After his not so secret problem with Dilaudid a few years ago, it was no wonder she looked worried that he might have relapsed, but that was the last thing he wanted anyone to worry about. He'd been clean for two years, and had no intentions of going back, even if he sometimes had cravings. He knew that his behavior was a tad strange however, but he didn't want to miss going out on the case.

"I'm fine," he replied, smiling at her again. "No worries."

When the briefing was finished they had an hour until takeoff, and Reid found that Prentiss was eyeing him from her desk as she threw some things into her go-bag.

"You're not going to give up are you?" he questioned, meeting her gaze momentarily.

"Not just yet," she answered with a slight smirk, stopping what she was doing and leaning against the little wall that separated their desks. "You don't have to tell me, but I'm here if you want to talk."

Reid scratched the back of his head, pointedly not looking at Prentiss as he spoke. "I just…I've been feeling sick lately with sort of weird symptoms; nausea, raging headaches, blurry vision sometimes, and dizziness. It's been slight and intermittent until today. I just don't want…"

"Anyone worrying," she finished for him, a warm gleam of understanding in her dark eyes. "Or babying you."

"Yeah," he said with a nod, finally looking at her. "I get that it sort of comes with the territory of being the youngest and the fact that I seem to have a knack for getting into sticky situations, but I just didn't want to tell anyone unless it got out of control."

"My lips are sealed," Prentiss said, laying a fleeting hand on his shoulder.

"I figured as much," Reid answered, smiling again. "Thanks." He continued putting the books on his desk into his bag. After a few moments he froze, eyes squinted as they landed on the title.

"What?" Prentiss asked, used to this sort of behavior by now, but still mildly bewildered by it. "Something wrong?"

Reid shook his head, shoving the books inside and walking toward the doors where Hotch had just exited. "I thought of something and need to tell Hotch; we might be looking at this all wrong. We were thinking these kids didn't know the unsub, but I think they just might. See you on the plane!"

With that he was out the door after his boss, bag swinging wildly behind him.

Four days and one child miraculously rescued-despite-the-statistics later, Reid had worsened. They'd come upon the unsub mere minutes before he would have set to killing the 9-year-old boy, and Morgan had snuck up behind the middle-aged man, who it turned out was the local neighborhood mail carrier, as Hotch talked him down and freed the child. Morgan was in the process of handcuffing the unsub, now known as Carl Miller, and taking him over to the Princeton P.D. car that had just pulled up. Prentiss carried the terrified Owen James over to his waiting parents, whose faces were drawn with receding terror. Reid leaned against the black SUV, pushing his sunglasses closer to his eyes, vision so blurry it was starting to frighten him. The rapid heartbeat had returned and his head ached so badly that no amount of aspirin had done any good whatsoever. He heard JJ's voice a few feet away, coming closer.

"Spence?" she asked. "You okay?"

He didn't move from his position, but opened his eyes, unable to see her face with much clarity as though his contacts had simply ceased to function. He was feeling increasingly weak on his feet.

"Just a bad headache," he said, trying to smile. "I think I caught a bug or something. Don't worry about it."

"Are you sure?" she protested, the mother in her emerging, worry prevalent over her exhaustion. "You don't look good."

"Yeah, I," Reid began, his stomach roiling. Before he quite knew what was happening he felt his feet giving out from under him. He threw his arm out and fell against the car, sliding down slowly and thankful he had at least avoided smacking his head into anything. The bullet proof vest he had yet to take off suddenly felt unbearably hot and suffocating, and black spots played at the edges of his vision. He felt flushed and was certain he was about to vomit.

"Spence!" JJ shouted, kneeling down beside him. "What…"

"What happened?" came Rossi's urgent tone, sounding more surprised than Reid had ever heard before.

"I don't know!" JJ exclaimed, sounding slightly shrill now. "I…Spence, talk to us. What's wrong?"

Reid found he couldn't form the words he wanted, and felt himself slipping from consciousness. Frustrated, he tried to get his point across without panicking his friends.

"I…so hot…feel sick…blurred vision…"

"What's going on?" Hotch shouted, darting over to where the rest of his team was gathering.

"We need an ambulance," Rossi decided. He looked over at the Princeton police officer standing nearby. "Where is the nearest hospital?"

"Princeton-Plainsboro is three blocks down from here," he replied. "It's one of the best in the country."

"Put him in the backseat of the car," Hotch commanded. "We can turn the lights on and get him there faster than waiting for an ambulance. Prentiss, Morgan, stay here and make sure everything is settled and then meet us at the hospital. JJ, please ride in the back with Reid."

"But," Morgan started to protest, obviously wanting to go directly to the hospital, frustration etched into every line on his face.

"We've got to clear things up here," Hotch said, leaving no room for argument. "We've got to finish our job. It should only take a half an hour and then you can come meet us. That's an order."

As everyone broke away to do as they'd been told, Reid reached up and grabbed JJ's arm and she whipped around, eyes widening slightly.

"JJ, I really don't," he began, gaining the momentary strength to get a full sentence out. "I just need to rest…take some aspirin."

"Reid, shut up," she whispered, the no-nonsense tone she always used when working a case brimming, yet fear edged her eyes. No matter the situation, JJ did her best to maintain calm and keep control on the outside because it helped her do the same on the inside. But she felt her resolve cracking slightly because this was Reid, their sweet, brilliant Reid. "You're sick and we're taking you to the hospital, no arguments."

The last thing Reid remembered before giving into the darkness was being lifted up by Hotch and Rossi into the back of the SUV, JJ gently pulling off the FBI vest as the sirens wailed to life.

* * *

><p>House heard Cuddy coming before he saw her, the sound of her high heels on the linoleum floors echoing through the hall, determined.<p>

"House!" she called, sounding very much like a woman who wasn't in the mood to be tested. "You've been back a month and you're already ignoring my pages?"

"Thought I'd get back into the swing of things quickly," House replied, turning around to face her and leaning heavily against his cane, his last dose of ibuprofen having worn off. "What do you want, exactly? I do have soap operas to catch up on."

"I've got a case for you," she said, handing over several copies of the file, presumably to give to Foreman, Cameron, and Chase.

House took the files and flipped one open, scanning over the symptoms and looking unimpressed.

"It's only vaguely interesting," he said. "But the guys in the white coats taught me to be nicer to the people around me, so I'll take it."

Cuddy rolled her eyes, placing a hand on her hip. "Did you even read past the symptoms? He's a 28-year-old FBI agent in one of the most elite units. They were here solving that child abduction case and these symptoms came on. There's bound to be an odd explanation."

House opened the file again, scanning down further. "What the hell is a kid like that doing in the Behavioral Analysis Unit?" he asked, piercing blue eyes widening in mild surprise.

"I don't know," Cuddy answered, pushing a strand of dark curly hair behind her ear, a long-time nervous habit. "But the entire team is here, so play nice. The last thing this hospital needs is a tussle with the Federal government."

"Yes Mom," he replied, sarcasm dripping from his words. He grinned at Cuddy before turning back toward Diagnostics, where he found Chase making coffee, sunlight glinting off his wedding ring.

"Where's your better half and the dark one?" House asked as he pushed open the door, proceeding to sit down at the head of the table.

"Cameron went to that Chinese place pick up some lunch for us, and Foreman has about another fifteen minutes of clinic duty." He poured himself a cup of coffee, then picked up an empty cup and gestured at his boss, filling it up at House's nod. "New case?"

"FBI agent," House said, taking the cup of coffee Chase handed him. "With blurred vision, nausea, headaches, tachycardia, and temperature regulation problems."

Chase opened the file, sipping his coffee and reading. House mused that Chase was barely older than this new patient was when he'd first come to Princeton-Plainsboro, noting just how much had changed and yet how much had stayed the same. It never failed that Chase would hunch over to read a file rather than simply pulling the chair in further, as though he thought the words on the page would try to escape if his eyes weren't as close as possible.

"He's a bit young to be so high up in FBI, isn't he?" Chase asked, looking back up at House, a curious gleam in his blue-green eyes.

"Aren't you a little young to be married?" House countered. "What are you, like 19 now?

"Ha ha," Chase said, shaking his head, yet still chuckling softly at House's jab. He remembered how worried he'd been when he'd heard about House entering Mayfield, how disappointed both he and Cameron had been that he couldn't attend their wedding, twisted mentor that he was. "Could be some kind of pesticide poisoning. There's really no telling what kind of situations he gets into with his job."

"Most of those situations probably involve getting shot at," House countered, eyes moving to the door as Cameron entered, laden down with Chinese food. "But still, you could be on to something."

"Did someone spike your coffee?" Cameron asked, putting the two plastic bags down on the table and handing a carton of chicken fried rice over to Chase. "You're actually giving someone else's idea merit?"

"Shut it, Miss Smarty Pants," House said, reaching over for one of the plastic containers of egg drop soup. "I sometimes listen to other people's ideas. What do you think I have a team for?"

Cameron ignored him and sat down next to her husband, who was already digging into his lunch. She pulled a copy of the file over, slid on her glasses and began reading.

"An FBI agent?" she piped up, eyebrows raised. "That's one we've never seen before."

"And a prime case for House to get socked in the stomach," Foreman chimed in, coming through the door and instantly going for the Lo-mein Cameron had brought him. "Should be entertaining."

"Glad to see you missed that aspect of the job in my absence," House snarked, slurping obnoxiously at his soup while Foreman shook his head, eyes rolling.

Chase and Cameron laughed into their entrees at the age-old exchange between the two, both having missed the Diagnostics world more than they would have ever admitted.

"When you're all done stuffing your faces," House said, breaking open a fortune cookie. "Second prettiest Dr. Chase and Original recipe Dr. Chase, go get a history and get the down low on the rest of this team of agents. One of them could have it out for the youngin'. Foreman, go check out the police station downtown where they were working the case, see if there's any evidence of a carbon monoxide leak. Then we can move from there."

"We should get an echo," Foreman added. "The other symptoms are serious, but the heart is the most urgent."

"That too," House agreed. "Don't bother waiting in line for that. Just do it."

The three original ducklings rose to attend to their tasks, but before exiting Chase turned back toward his boss.

"I don't suppose there's anything I could do to stop you from using those nicknames?" he asked.

"Not a chance," House replied. "You two opened a whole new can of taunts as soon as you tied the knot. Be prepared." He smirked, draining his coffee cup. "Now scamper. Every minute counts for this kid."


	2. Variation 1

Variation on a Theme

A Criminal Minds/House, M.D Crossover

A/N: Hi, readers! I just wanted to thank everyone who either left me a review or added me to their story alert/favorites list; I'm flattered! I'm hoping you enjoy this chapter and if you can, please let me know what you think!

Chapter 2: Variation 1

_I'd fight for you/I'd lie, it's true/Give my life, for you/You know I'd always come for you ~ Nickelback (Come for You)_

Derek Morgan had seen a lot of truly horrific things in his life, and whatever the statistics said he wasn't ever going to become desensitized to seeing children abused, innocent women raped and killed, or fathers murdered in front of their families. He could deal with it because he simply _had_ to solve the case or those sick, twisted minds would be left to roam the streets. In short, he'd had to deal with a lot of difficult things and had imparted more than his fair share of bad news. This however, ranked up pretty high on the list. Reid was the little brother he'd always wanted, even if he was terrible at throwing a football, and he felt a fierce amount of protectiveness toward the younger man even if he had more than proved he could take care of himself.

But it was always Reid.

He'd been the one taken hostage with Elle on the train; he'd been the one who got kidnapped by Tobias Hankel; along with Prentiss he'd been taken hostage once again by a zealous, suicidal cult; he'd been the one who'd nearly died of Anthrax poisoning. Sometimes Morgan felt as if the world itself tried to chip away at Reid's particular brand of childlike innocence, and he resented that. The kid was undeniably brilliant and had more courage than the majority of people put together, but the psychopaths they hunted always seemed to hone in on the innocence, the fragile faith in humanity he somehow still managed to possess, knowing the rest of the team would do almost anything to protect their youngest member who had been through more in his 28 years than most people deal with in their entire lives. Morgan was sure some people mistook Reid's optimism for naiveté, but they were wrong to do so; the kid had learned to be a fighter from the day his father walked out, leaving the 10-year-old boy with his immensely loving but obviously mentally unstable mother and that hadn't changed.

So as he picked up the phone to call Garcia his chest tightened in that ever familiar, burning way, his throat feeling like it was closing up. Hotch had already made them wait a few hours before calling Garcia, had said he didn't want to worry her unless it was truly serious, but when the Dean of Medicine had assigned the infamous Dr. House and his team to the case Morgan knew it was time to make the call. He'd almost asked JJ to call their eccentric friend, but Reid had just come to, and she was sitting so close to his bedside that the arm of the chair was touching the metal railing. She'd been attached to Reid since the very beginning, but the Tobias Hankel episode still haunted her and she still blamed herself. Naming Reid as baby Henry's godfather had only served to bring their bond closer. He found Garcia on his speed dial, and she predictably answered on the second ring.

"Mistress of all things miraculous, please state your case," she chirped. "Wait, you've solved the case. Aren't you on your way home?"

"Hey, Garcia," he replied. "And no, we're not on our way yet. There's been…a delay."

"What, no pet names?" she questioned, sounding a smidge bewildered.

"Not today baby girl," he said, obliging her a bit. He hesitated, giving her leave to speak before he could process just how to tell her the news.

"What's wrong?" she said, worry instantly seeping into her voice. "What's happened?"

Morgan sighed, glancing back into the room, where Reid was practically guzzling down a glass of water. He couldn't hear the conversation, but knew Reid was predictably trying to assure everyone he was fine. Stubborn, as always. But it was a stubbornness that had come from having to largely take care of himself from a young age, and it seemed he still hadn't adjusted to the idea of anyone taking care of him, even if he was ill.

"It's Reid," Morgan finally said. "He's really sick and we're not sure what's causing it. We're at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital in Jersey now."

"What do you mean, really sick?" Garcia questioned, voice rising a few octaves, almost shrill now. "Tell the truth Derek."

Knowing if he didn't tell her she would somehow hack into the hospital records and find out herself, he relented. He found himself thinking inexplicably of Gideon, and the call he'd made to Garcia in Georgia, how he'd whispered to her, ever gentle. He ran a hand over his face, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.

"He passed out earlier, and is having intermittent blurry vision, rapid heart rate with palpitations, headaches, and some crazy nausea," Morgan continued. "And some kind of temperature control problems…I think they called it Anhidrosis. He seemed slightly delirious earlier, but he seems more with it now, at least."

Garcia was silent for a moment, but Morgan heard distinct sniffling on the other end. It was one of the things he loved most about Garcia; unlike the rest of them she had absolutely no problem showcasing her feelings. Yet even in her most emotional moments she still did her job spectacularly. He could picture her now, tears welling up in her colorfully lined eyes, probably grasping her mouse so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

"Is he going to be okay?" she finally asked. "He has to be okay, right? I mean this is Reid we're talking about. He can't just….he can't…" She trailed off, unable to finish her thought. But she didn't need to, really; Morgan knew what she was thinking.

"They've assigned his case to one of the best diagnosticians in the world with what the Dean of Medicine says is a team of his original fellows, the three who know his methods best. Dr. Gregory House," he said, noticing two blonde doctors coming from the far end of the hall.

"I've heard about him," Garcia said, voice a tad stronger now. "He solves cases no one else can. Kind of like us except medically." It was only the ghost of a joke, but it made Morgan feel better. "I'm going to the airport now. I'll be there as soon as possible. It's probably quicker than waiting for the jet to fly back here to pick me up."

Morgan knew better than to argue the point.

"Alright baby girl. Well, I see doctors heading this way, so I'm gonna run," he said. "But call when you get flight information and one of us will come pick you up."

"Can do," she said. "Watch over Reid for me until I get there," she said, ever the mother of their little family.

"Absolutely baby girl," he said. "See you soon."

He hung up the phone and slipped back into the room just as the doctors entered.

**CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE**

Chase hadn't expected so many people to be in the room when he came in with Allison, and he couldn't stop himself from raising his eyebrows in surprise. Six people including Dr. Reid were waiting there, each with differing expressions of anxiety on their faces.

"Hi there," he said, smiling at them. "I'm Dr. Chase and this is Dr. Cameron." He walked closer to the side of the bed and shot a glance at the agent's vitals, noting the heart rate was still high. "And you must be Dr. Spencer Reid I assume?" he asked.

"The one and only," Reid answered, greeting them with a funny little wave. "At least I think so."

Chase chuckled a little at his remark, turning back toward the rest of the assembled agents, one of whom was standing up to shake his hand. Chase could tell simply from the way he held himself that this was most likely the unit chief. He looked more composed than the others, hiding his concern beneath the mask of his dark eyes for the sake of his team.

"I'm Agent Hotchner," he said, shaking both Chase and Cameron's hands with a firm grip. "These are agents Dave Rossi, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, and Jennifer Jareau."

"It's nice to meet all of you," Cameron said, a warm sympathy resting in her eyes. It was obvious even after just a few moments that this team was more than just a group of co-workers; they were a family. Agent Jareau sat as close as possible to Dr. Reid's bed, face pinched with worry; a quiet, finger-nail picking Prentiss stood nearly shoulder to shoulder with Morgan, who had his arms crossed tightly over his chest; Rossi and Hotchner kept exchanging glances as though they could communicate merely with their eyes, both obviously trying to keep their cool. House's theory that one of these agents had potentially poisoned Dr. Reid seemed highly unlikely, although, he speculated, poisoning by someone else wasn't totally out of the question, considering the type of work these people did.

"Dr. House sent us to get a quick medical history," Cameron continued, pulling out her clipboard and starting to write because her handwriting was actually legible. Chase always typed up his notes and histories in order for others to be able to read them properly, true to the stereotype of doctors having bad penmanship. "And he sent our colleague Dr. Foreman down to see if there were any carbon monoxide leaks at the police station where you were working the case."

Chase saw that Reid's eyes flitted down to his hands for a split second before he looked back up at them, and made a mental note to ask him if there was anything he didn't want the rest of his team to know, suspecting that he may have been feeling ill longer than he was letting on.

"Is there a history of any kind of genetic disease in your family Dr. Reid?" Chase asked.

Everyone in the room shifted, he noticed, and they all looked tense, protective, as though worried Chase and Cameron would pass some sort of judgment on what the young agent had to tell them. Reid hesitated for a moment before meeting his gaze straight on, though it seemed difficult for him to do so. A hint of aged melancholy flowed into his tone as he spoke.

"I don't know if it's relevant, but my mother has schizophrenia. Studies point toward a genetic predisposition for that, although now they consider environmental factors too, and certain kinds of emotional trauma," Reid rattled off, eyes bright with knowledge. "But other than that, no."

"Any history of heart disease or cancer?" Cameron questioned, smiling a bit at his knowledgeable ramblings.

"My maternal grandfather had congestive heart failure," Reid responded, and Chase saw that he was looking at their wedding rings. "But no cancer as far as I know. But most cancers aren't necessarily genetic, correct?"

"Only some have proven so," Chase answered, growing more interested in this patient by the minute. "Most often in cases of breast or colon cancer and less so in others. How do you know so much about those statistics? Interested in the medicine?"

"I just read a lot," Reid muttered.

At this remark Morgan spoke up, laughing a little. "Read a lot?" he said, shaking his head. "He's got an eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words a minute. Don't sell yourself short kid."

"Sounds sort of like our boss," Chase said, grinning. "Although you're much friendlier than he is."

"Does he not come see patients?" Rossi asked, one eyebrow ticking up to his hairline. "That's a bit odd for a doctor isn't it?"

"He usually comes eventually," Cameron answered as she wrote Reid's vitals down on the chart so they could report them to House upon returning. "But he's a bit…brusque."

"Are you two married?" Reid asked, looking at their wedding rings again. "I was just curious."

"We are," Chase answered, loving the way Allison's face brightened at the question. "A little over three months ago. Now, if you're feeling up to it we wanted to run an echocardiogram to check on your heart since that's the most concerning symptom."

"Sure," Reid answered, tossing the blankets off his legs as Cameron moved to retrieve the wheelchair from the hallway. Chase watched as the young man turned his gaze to the rest of his team, a small smile gracing his features, an affectionate twinkle in his eyes. "You guys should go get something to eat…or even some sleep. I'll be fine here."

Agent Hotchner rose from his seat, nodding at the rest of his team. He looked absolutely exhausted, Chase noticed, purple bags prominent under his eyes.

"Reid's right," he conceded. "We should all go get some rest, and someone will need to pick up Garcia when she arrives." He turned to Reid, his hard as stone expression softening a little. "We'll all be back in the morning, but we'll rotate staying the night."

"Hotch," Reid started to protest as Cameron helped him into the wheelchair.

"No arguments," Hotch said, cutting him off mid-sentence. "One of us needs to be here in case anything changes," he said, turning to Chase and Cameron. "And if you don't mind, I'd like to meet with the two of you, Dr. Foreman, and Dr. House in the morning, just to brief you on some things."

"Absolutely," Cameron replied, exchanging a mildly unnerved glance with Chase at how House would react to _that_ particular news, but knowing Cuddy would curtail any extreme reactions, if possible. "And we'll make sure there's a cot here for whoever is staying the night, and let the nurses know."

"I'll stay tonight," JJ piped up, hand grasping a piece of Reid's blanket. "I don't mind a night on a cot."

Reid shook his head, wavy brown hair falling into his face.

"No JJ," he said, almost authoritative. "You can stay tomorrow." His voice grew gentle, and Chase could tell that this woman was like a sister to him. "You need to call Will and check on Henry. You can tell him his godfather says hello. And besides, you were up for two days trying to help the James' get through while Owen was kidnapped."

JJ looked ready to argue, but Morgan laid a hand on her shoulder.

"I've got tonight JJ," he said, squeezing her shoulder lightly. "I'm used to hanging out with this kid in the hospital anyway."

Reid shook his head in response, yet there was still a hint of amusement in his expression. But it was true; Morgan had taken several turns watching over him after the Tobias Hankel ordeal, had been there when he'd awakened after the anthrax scare, and again when he'd been shot in the leg. It was a brotherly devotion worthy of all the years they'd spent working together, all the things they'd witnessed, the confidences they'd shared.

"Alright," JJ gave in, shooting a half- smile at Reid. "Did you know you're incorrigible?"

"I did, actually," Reid responded, laughing as she poked him in the chest.

"I'll go grab Garcia from the airport," Prentiss said, giving Reid's shoulder a playful push. "Don't do anything else to scare us out of our wits while we're gone okay?"

"Same goes for you," Reid countered as Rossi clapped his shoulder on the way out of the room. "I'll be fine."

Once the team had gone and Chase, Cameron, and Reid were on their way to run the echocardiogram, the young genius let out a soft sigh, slumping a little against the wheelchair back.

"I think I'll go make copies of these notes and fill House in," Cameron said, sensing that Chase had already developed some kind of rapport with Dr. Reid and that he might get him to reveal what he'd been hiding. "And see if Foreman found anything. I'll meet you in the conference room later, okay?"

"Sounds like a plan," Chase answered. "Make sure to tell him he's getting _briefed_ tomorrow," he said, a slight smirk sliding onto his face as he imagined House's reaction.

Cameron rolled her eyes good-naturedly, likely thinking thoughts along the same lines.

"And just page if you need anything, okay Dr. Reid?" she added, smiling kindly at him.

"Will do," he responded, nodding at her.

She left a peck on Chase's lips and headed back toward the elevators, golden ponytail swinging behind her. A momentary silence fell between the two young men as Chase pushed the wheelchair down the hallway, but his curiosity piqued, he decided to try and talk to Reid in the hopes of perking him up; he was clearly weary from his efforts in trying to save face for his friends. It was clear to Chase even from just a few minutes that the whole team was fiercely protective of Reid as the youngest member, and as much as Reid clearly appreciated the concern Chase could tell he didn't want to be babied and did his best to hide it if something was wrong.

"So what is your PhD in?" he asked as they approached the testing room.

"I have three," Reid replied as though it was an everyday thing, with no trace of arrogance in his tone. "One in Mathematics and then two others in Chemistry and Engineering. I'm pursuing one now in Philosophy for something different."

Chase couldn't help but be taken aback. Not many people had three doctorates, let alone people who had yet to reach 30.

"I guess that means you have more than one Bachelor's then?" he asked, pushing the door open and wheeling Reid through.

"One in Psychology and one in Sociology," Reid replied, rubbing his arms against the slight chill of the room, the temperature control problems still prevalent. "Do you mind my asking how long you've been in the U.S.?"

"Not at all," Chase said, gesturing for Reid to lie down as he pulled the machine over and sat down himself. "I've been here about 7 years…I interviewed for the fellowship with House and two weeks later I was here. It was a change, but I like it."

"That's a big change," Reid said, glancing over at the screen, a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. "This will tell if there's any structural problems, yes?"

"Right," Chase answered, slipping on gloves and applying the gel to Reid's chest. "It's a Transthoracic echo. And unlike lots of other tests, completely painless. How's the vision?"

"Still not fantastic," Reid said. "But not as bad as earlier. All the symptoms seem to ebb and flow."

Chase focused on the screen when he asked his next question, but knew he needed an answer in order to properly approach the next DDX. Reid was looking away from both him and the screen now, staring ahead and lost in thought.

"You've been feeling sick longer than the rest of your team knows," Chase said, breaking through the momentary silence. "Am I right?"

Reid continued his silence for a moment, but answered regardless, knowing only the truth would hold the answer to whatever was plaguing his body. Most patients seemed to think lying would make their illnesses heal as quick as if they'd told the truth, as if not telling their doctors all the answers wouldn't impede the process, but Dr. Reid rose above his own insecurities. Digging through a patient's lies was something Chase had grown used to, but he found honesty refreshing.

"It started with headaches a little shy of two weeks ago," Reid admitted. "And then the other symptoms started to come. They were intermittent, and I thought maybe I just had the flu or was overly tired. I couldn't have imagined it would have been something this serious. I should have realized."

Chase nodded in understanding. "Well, we'll do our best to figure this out quickly," he said, moving the wand over slightly. "Do you think it's possible anyone is trying to poison you? Anything going on out of the ordinary?"

"Nothing is ever really normal, per say," Reid said. "But I can't think of anything especially odd. But I suppose I wouldn't rule out foul play." His eyes closed for a moment. "It wouldn't be the first time an unsub has targeted the team itself." He opened his eyes again, and Chase saw the ghosts contained within them, the memories of some of the horrors he had witnessed. Chase got the feeling however, that with a schizophrenic mother Reid's ghosts went farther back than just his time in the FBI. He wondered if, despite his age, Reid had ever been forced to kill one of the suspects.

"You wouldn't think doctors get a lot of death threats," Chase replied. "But someone shot House once. Just stormed right into the office and shot him in front of Foreman, Cameron, and me. It's not an everyday hospital, this place."

Reid responded, obviously glad to be distracted by the conversation. "Sounds like you have an interesting boss," he said. "No doctors like him in Australia?"

"Not that I ever met," Chase answered, clicking to the next slice. "But he's famous in the medical community. Or infamous, depending on who you ask, but most people think he's irrevocably insane. My own father certainly thought so, but House saves lives that might not otherwise be saved, whatever his methods."

Reid was about to reply when the doors of the testing room swung open and House entered, as though an alarm went off whenever anyone spoke his name. He was followed by a sympathetic looking Cameron, who skittered in behind him, looking regretful about wearing the pair of heels that Chase had always said were his favorites on her, but weren't the type of shoes one should wear to chase down their uncontrollable boss. Foreman came in behind her, back from his fruitless search at the police station.

"I don't think it takes four doctors to run…" Chase began, but was promptly cut off.

"Did you know this kid has an IO of 187 and graduated high school at age 12?" House asked pointedly. "How could you keep such interesting information from me?"

"I didn't know," Chase said, glancing over at Reid, who looked mildly unnerved by the sudden bursting of House into the quiet room. "How do you even…"

"I Googled him," House replied, walking over, the sound of his cane echoing against the floor. "You should really try it out wombat, the Internet is an amazing creation."

Chase narrowed his eyes in irritation. "How is this relevant to anything?"

"Haven't I taught you that everything is relevant?" House asked, glancing over at Reid now. "You joined the FBI at 22?" he asked Reid. "What kind of 22-year-old does that?"

"The kind I am, I guess?" Reid said amiably, blinking his eyes as though trying to clear his vision, still looking a bit bewildered. "You must be Dr. House."

"The one and only," House said, surveying Reid with his piercing blue gaze and moved closer, looking very much like he wanted to take Reid's brain and do experiments on it to try and unlock it's secrets. Reid dropped the gaze, looking significantly creeped out.

"Don't mind him," Chase said, noticing Reid's uncomfortable shifting. "He's just fascinated by a genius who can actually be pleasant to other human beings."

"Don't talk about me like that in front of a patient, Dr. Chase," House said, a slight mocking in his tone. He backed away but was still surveying Reid. "I'm perfectly pleasant."

"What we really came in to say," Foreman cut in, stepping forward to shake Reid's hand. "Is that we think it might be organophosphate toxicity. Do they spray around Quantico, Dr. Reid?"

"Sometimes," Reid answered. "I noticed they were spraying around the station here in Princeton. Could that be why I got worse?"

"We think so," Cameron said. "It fits."

"Wait," Chase stepped in, stopping the movement of the wand. "Organophosphate poisoning presents with bradycardia. Dr. Reid has…"

"Had," House interrupted. "Look. His heart rate has been dropping."

"Back to normal," Chase argued. "Not to a dangerous low."

"It dropped from very high to low-normal quickly," House said. "Something in the CNS has gone wonky. We can treat and see what happens. You know the drill…don't act so surprised. And there's clearly not any structural problems so you can put that wand away."

Reid sat up as Chase put the equipment away. "You treat without testing first?" he asked, one eyebrow quirked. "Isn't that against some kind of protocol?"

"It's quicker," House said. "There's not always enough time to wait for those pesky tests." He turned back to Chase. "Treat with pralidoxime, and if the heart rate keeps going down, atropine."

Chase nodded, knowing House's more insane theories were usually spot on, but also knowing that while the first diagnoses were rarely fully correct, it helped them move one step closer to the right one. Cameron moved to help Reid into the wheelchair as he was still weak on his feet, and walked with Chase back in the direction of Reid's room. House followed, while Foreman went to retrieve the medications from the pharmacy. Upon reaching the room, they found Morgan sitting on the newly delivered cot and munching a cheeseburger, still looking a little wearied.

"Hey kid," he said, looking up from his food as they entered. "Did you find anything doc?" he asked Chase, although his eyes had fallen on House, who he had yet to meet.

"There aren't any structural problems with the heart that we could see," Chase answered, wheeling the chair up next to the bed. "But we think it might be organophosphate poisoning, so we're going to start treatment for that and see how things progress. Agent Morgan, this is…"

"Dr. Gregory House," the caustic physician finished for his employee. "You're an awfully big guy, so I'll make a point not to insult you. I've gotten punched in the face one too many times."

"Okay…great," Morgan answered slowly, confused by House's odd comment. "You're treating without testing first?"

House rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed about being asked the same question twice in the same hour. "Sometimes it's quicker this way. If it doesn't work, or he gets worse we can move on to the next diagnoses without having to wait for results." His eyes roved back over to Reid, who was settling back into bed, going for the Jello that rested next to his dinner, probably a wiser choice than actually trying to down the hospital food. "Speaking of other diagnoses, and testing, test his hair for drugs."

Chase watched Reid and Morgan react simultaneously. It was subtle, but still noticeable. Agent Morgan's eyes suddenly became interested in the floor for a few seconds, hands slipping into his pockets; Reid slowly stopped his ravenous intake of Jello, hands folding themselves tightly together.

"I don't do drugs, Dr. House," Reid said, his tone polite but containing an odd impatience beneath the surface.

"You were a 12-year-old in a Las Vegas High school with a schizophrenic mother," House argued. "You did drugs at some point."

"I didn't," Reid snapped, voice containing a sharpness Chase hadn't yet heard.

House leaned on his cane, frowning. "Then why won't you accept any narcotic pain-killers for the headaches? They're pretty bad, aren't they? NSAIDS don't really do the trick."

"How do you…"

"I read the nurse's notes," House said, leaning in closer, both hands clamped on the top of his cane. "And you're defensive. Aren't profilers supposed to interpret human behavior? Look at yours."

Reid sighed softly, frustration etched into every line of his face, and also, Chase saw, a gleam of shame in his eyes; there was a story written there, and Chase found himself wanting to know how it had unfolded.

"Drugs stay in your system a long time," House prodded, although oddly he wasn't mocking now. He looked rather intrigued, and Chase could have sworn he saw a sparkle of empathy in his eyes.

"Don't talk to him like that!" Morgan began, hot anger flooding his tone as he stepped forward.

"Dilaudid," Reid said, holding his arm out to stop Morgan, who looked like he very much wanted to deck House after the comment about Reid's childhood. "It was Dilaudid. But I've been clean for two years. You can test me for any current use if you like, but you won't find it. But I understand if you need to test for any permanent damage it might have done."

Chase saw House's eyes widen slightly, his lips pursed. Dr. Reid had no history of chronic pain, and despite the fact that House had originally been prescribed Vicodin for his leg, his recently kicked drug habit had been about infinitely more than the infarction. If anyone understood the complex nature of a narcotics addiction, it was House. Add that to the fact that this patient was in an elite unit of the FBI and not yet 30 made House's puzzle antenna raise up.

"Interesting," he finally said, a tinge of curiosity in his voice. His gaze flitted over to Morgan in an obvious attempt to read whether or not he'd known about his friend's addiction. Morgan returned it with intensity, leaving no question that he'd been well aware. "Pretty much drug store Heroin. How long were you on it?"

"Six months and 12 days," Reid said automatically.

"We'll just get what we need and let you rest," Chase cut in, sensing how uncomfortable the situation was becoming. "Dr. Cameron and I will stay on-call here tonight to monitor everything."

A few minutes later after Foreman had returned with the IV Pralidoxime, the Diagnostics team walked down the hall back toward the conference room.

"Check his heart rate every couple of hours," House instructed. "Use the Atropine if you need it." He walked with a purpose toward his desk, seizing his backpack.

"Where are you going in such a hurry?" Cameron asked, shrugging off her lab coat, ready to settle in for the night since she and Chase had volunteered to stay.

"Research," House replied shortly, giving nothing away.

"Don't stay up too late!" Foreman called out, a wicked grin on his lips. "You'll have to be here early for our briefing."

House ignored him, making his way down the hallway and out of sight toward Wilson's office, the light still visible under the door.

"Mock him too much and he won't show up," Chase said, flicking on the coffee pot, a chuckle in his voice.

"He will," Foreman said, pulling on his trench coat. "The threat of Cuddy ripping him a new one over getting in trouble with the Feds will be enough to get him here in the morning. He wouldn't want to put up with it. You guys sure you're okay here?"

"Yeah," Cameron responded. "We can take a nap in the on call room if we need to. We just need to see if the treatment works; no need for all three of us to stay. If there's another all-nighter you can take it."

Foreman nodded. "Page me if anything happens."

Cameron and Chase waved as Foreman walked out the door, each settling in at the conference table, waiting eagerly for the coffee to brew. Cameron eyed her husband as he poured over the file again, blue-green eyes squinting slightly in concentration.

"You don't think the diagnosis is right?" she asked, smiling at him as he looked up. "You're perusing the file like you're looking for something."

"I think it's a possibility," Chase replied, reaching for her hand across the table, linking their fingers loosely together. "But you know as well as I do that our first diagnosis is rarely correct…it just leads us on the path to the right one. Just looking for other possibilities."

"They're really close knit, that group of agents," Cameron remarked, grabbing another copy of the file with her free hand and flipping through herself. "Like a family."

"They are," Chase agreed. "Although I wouldn't want that job. The stuff they must see...Something struck me when Dr. Reid said he'd had a drug problem. He hardly seems the type. I feel like something happened, something to do with the job."

"You're probably right," Cameron said, frowning as she came across the mention of schizophrenia again. "Foreman is going to jump on this," she said, pointing to it. "If we end up having to toss the organophosphate theory. He naturally goes for the neurological first."

"He isn't presenting with those symptoms though," Chase said, rising to pour two cups of coffee, watching as the steam curled up into the air. "So here's to hoping he doesn't start hallucinating. He doesn't seem like a schizophrenic at all to me…he wouldn't be stable enough to do that job if he was. He would have started breaking down already. Somebody could be poisoning him."

"If they are," Cameron said, accepting the cup of coffee and taking a tentative sip. "Then he'll likely get better the longer he's here. But it's definitely plausible." She looked up at Chase, who was pouring creamer into his coffee, watching as the white cloud of liquid lightened the dark beverage. "You like being back here, don't you?" she asked. "Doing diagnostics."

He caught her eyes, heart swelling a bit at the idea that she was really his wife, that they were really building a life together. He remembered how far they'd come, and found it oddly fitting that they had once again ended up back here, behind the glass doors of House's department.

"I was happy in surgery," he replied. "But yes, it's been good to be back here. Even if it only ends up being temporary, it's comforting to come back to the beginning again, in a sense."

"It might not be temporary," Cameron laughed. "Foreman has a stack of resumes that he hasn't looked at. He likes having us back in the department."

"I think House does too," Chase grinned. "He'd just never admit it."


	3. Variation 2

Variation on a Theme

A Criminal Minds/House, M.D. Crossover

A/N: Hi all! Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed or added me to their story alert/favorites list, it is much appreciated! This chapter has a bit of action, but there will be a great deal more in the next chapter…still trying to blend the two worlds together with this installment. In any case I hope it's working and that you enjoy the chapter! Please let me know what you think!

Chapter 3: Variation 2

_"Now this is what it's like when worlds collide/Now this is what it's like/Now this is what it's like when worlds collide/Now this is what it's like" ~ Powerman 5000_

The small clock on the hospital nightstand struck 1 a.m. in bright green lights as Reid sat awake in bed nibbling at the remains of his half-finished dinner, Morgan dead asleep on the cot a few feet away. Although he didn't feel as terrible as he had when he'd passed out in the afternoon, his head had started to pound again, veins feeling as if they were pulsating under his skin. The nurse had given him a high dose of Indomethacin for the pain, still thinking it odd that he wouldn't accept the more effective narcotic painkillers, but Reid had managed to dodge her worried questioning. He noticed his hands had developed a tremor, and thought that his body revolting against him was more unnerving than confronting an armed unsub. The body couldn't be talked down, reasoned with, or overpowered, would only heal if given the correct remedy, and sometimes even that wasn't enough; disease was inherently insidious, and despite all he'd seen Reid had a faith that humanity was ultimately kind-hearted. He'd just closed his eyes when he heard voices outside the door.

"Garcia, he might be sleeping," Prentiss admonished, although there was amusement in her voice at her friend's perseverance. "You don't want to…"

"I don't care if he's sleeping, I need to see him!" Garcia exclaimed in a loud whisper that defeated the purpose of whispering at all.

Reid opened his eyes as the door slid open, leaning over to switch on the lamp as they entered.

"I wasn't expecting you to be awake," Prentiss said, eyeing the still sleeping Morgan.

Reid's reply was cut off by Garcia throwing her arms around his slight frame, pulling him close.

"How dare you get sick?" she questioned. Reid could hear the tears brimming forth just from the sound of her voice, and he returned her enthusiastic embrace, patting her on the back with his shaking hand. "You're too good for that, my Junior G Man."

"I'm not dying yet, Garcia," he said, his reply distinctly muffled against her lavender sweater. "Although if you squeeze my internal organs…"

"Oh, sorry sweet cheeks," Garcia said, sliding slowly away and grasping his hands instead. "Are you okay? How are you feeling?"

"I'm sure I'll be fine," Reid answered, hoping to reassure her, feeling as though he was repeating a mantra. "How'd you get here?"

"Will and Henry drove me to the airport," Garcia said, and Reid smiled at the mention of his godson, who he'd started reading to before he could even sit up. "And you were saying you were fine two minutes after you got shot in the leg and when you'd breathed in a deadly poison. I'm not sure if I trust you," she teased, although there was a serious note in her tone.

"What's the latest?" Prentiss asked, sitting gingerly on the edge of bed.

"They're treating for organophosphate poisoning," Reid replied, catching her gaze for a moment, a slight plea in her eyes to tell the rest of the team how long he'd been feeling ill, but a promise to keep it to herself if he didn't want to reveal the truth. "Don't worry," he told her softly. "I told Dr. Chase I'd been feeling off for a couple of weeks."

"A couple of weeks!" Garcia exclaimed, causing Morgan to awaken with a start, looking distinctly disgruntled. "Why didn't you tell anyone? JJ will kill you! I'll kill you!"

"I thought I had the flu or something," Reid mumbled glancing guiltily away from her. "Didn't see the point in worrying anyone."

"You're ridiculous kid," Morgan said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Hey there baby girl."

"Hey love," she replied with a wide smile. "Oh!" she said, reaching into her bag. "I brought a few things for you." She pulled several books out and placed them on the bedside table, along with a small portable CD player and several of the Beethoven CD's Reid kept in his desk drawer. Lastly she pulled out her own portable DVD player, along with several Star Trek and Dr. Who DVDs. "I didn't think you'd be much for hospital TV, so I thought I'd bring these in case you got bored."

"Thanks Garcia," Reid said, heartfelt in his appreciation at her thoughtful gesture. He shivered slightly. "Hey Morgan can you toss me that sweater?" he asked, gesturing to the grey cardigan resting on one of the chairs.

"You feeling okay?" Prentiss asked, eyes flickering up to the machine monitoring Reid's vitals as it beeped twice. "You're getting a fever."

"I'm sure it's…" Reid attempted to say, but Garcia was already out the door, flagging down a nurse.

"Mama bear on the loose," Prentiss joked. "I wouldn't want to be the nurses on this floor."

"Me either," Morgan laughed, although his eyes contained a shadow of worry as the machine beeped once more, signaling that Reid's fever had risen to 101.

Garcia came scuttling back inside. "The head nurse on the hall is paging one of Reid's doctors," she said. "A Dr. Chase, I think?"

"That's one of them yeah," Prentiss answered. "The Australian. Reid, you okay?"

"I…" Reid said, his face flushing suddenly. "Just cold. I'm okay," he lied, hardly knowing why when his friends would almost automatically be able to see through it. That was the trouble with having a pseudo-family of profilers.

"Kid…" Morgan began, but was cut off by two pairs of swift footsteps approaching.

Drs. Chase and Cameron appeared in the doorway, and Chase moved quickly to the side of the bed with the instincts of an Intensivist. Reid watched his eyes dart from his vitals to the locked drawer of medical supplies in the corner, unlocking the drawer and pulling out a syringe.

"The fever is telling us that the Pralidoxime isn't working on its own," Chase told Reid. "Adding the Atropine usually helps." He plunged the syringe into the IV line in one fluid motion, trying to give reassuring glances to the other agents.

"Is it anything to worry about?" Prentiss asked, rising up from the bed, unconsciously picking at her fingernails.

"It should be fine," Cameron said, although Reid noticed that her expression looked slightly unsure, as if she was beginning to have misgivings about the diagnosis. But just as they never showcased their doubts to a victim's family, these well-practiced doctors would show none to them in this situation.

Moments after those words left her mouth however, Reid felt more significant chills race up and down his body, yet the blood rushed to his face, patches of red darkening his cheeks.

The monitor started shrieking, a startling sound that rang through the room, Reid's body temperature skyrocketing from 101 to 104. His mind felt like it was melting away, and he feared he couldn't form a coherent sentence. His vision blurred and his heart raced again where hours ago the beats had been rapidly decreasing. He saw Dr. Chase slam his hand against the emergency call button.

"Emily…" Reid muttered. "The case…where…"

"He's delirious," Cameron said, a gloved hand reaching out to feel just how warm Reid's face was.

"We need ice packs in here NOW!" Chase exclaimed, as Dr. Cameron pulled back the covers.

"Can you all please wait out in the hallway for just a moment?" she asked, urgency in her tone, but she was not unkind.

"Garcia please call Hotch," Morgan said. "Call Hotch now."

**CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE**

"It doesn't make any sense," House mused, setting his feet up on Wilson's desk, which earned him a very disgruntled stare.

"Since when do any of your cases make sense?" Wilson asked, pushing at House's sneakers to no avail.

"He was getting a fever, so Chase gave him Atropine. Then he got worse, but the Atropine didn't cause the initial fever," House said.

"No sign of allergic reaction to Atropine?" Wilson asked, giving in.

"No, and his heart rate is all over the place." House checked his watch, rolling his eyes. "Atropine toxicity usually presents with tachycardia, which he had, but then it turned into bradycardia, and then back again."

"Don't you have a briefing to go to?" Wilson questioned, taking a sip of the coffee House had already managed to steal half of. "Cuddy will be furious if you're late. This is the FBI we're talking about."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," House said, waving his hand in annoyance. "I need to be diagnosing, not listening to some guy giving me rules to follow. Some of the signs are pointing to infection…" he trailed off, lost in his ideas.

"They might know something about Dr. Reid's medical history that isn't in the file," Wilson said seriously. "Some things he might have been exposed to could be classified or something. You did a case with the CIA, you should know that. When were you supposed to be in?"

"Ten minutes…"

But House's reply was cut off by a loud rapping at the door, which opened to reveal Chase's anxious face.

"House," he said, a reprimand in his tone, yet he sounded unsurprised. "Agents Hotchner and Rossi are waiting for you, and Cuddy is about to pop an aneurism. Dr. Reid is too sick for your…"

"I diagnose by talking out the symptoms," House argued. "You know how the system works, you've been around long enough."

"If you'll just come listen to what they have to say we can get back to the DDX," Chase said in an attempt at appeasement.

"Since when did you turn into Foreman trying to boss me around?" House asked, squinting at his long-time fellow, the cogs of curiosity clicking away behind the bright blue orbs.

"I just think we should cooperate with the agents so we can get to the right diagnosis," Chase said, raising his eyebrows as his hand tightened on the doorknob.

"What's the status?" House asked.

"He's stable," Chase replied. "Barely. We're going to have to move him to the ICU if this keeps up."

"Alright, alright," House said, removing his feet from Wilson's desk as he rose from the chair. "I'm coming. Then maybe I can actually do my job."

House rose from his chair and the two exited the oncologist's office, leaving Wilson shaking his head.

"You think someone's poisoning him, don't you?" House questioned as they walked the few feet to the Diagnostics office. "This whole FBI thing's gotten in your head."

"I don't know, but I wouldn't rule it out," Chase shot back. "You don't?"

"Don't know yet," House responded. "But how would he have gotten worse here if some freak serial killer back in Virginia started poisoning him?"

"We've seen weirder things…" Chase muttered.

"We have," House agreed. "But you should know better than to jump to irrational conclusions.

"And you should know better than to be late for a briefing with the FBI," Chase said, rolling his eyes, a hint of a grin on his face.

House childishly stuck out his tongue at Chase as he pushed the conference room door open, revealing Cameron, Foreman, Cuddy, Agent Hotchner, and Agent Rossi sitting at the long glass table. Cuddy glared at him but remained silent, her sour expression clearly telling him that they would talk later.

"Sorry about that, I got held up," House lied, sitting down at the empty chair at the head of the table, while Chase took the place between Foreman and Cameron.

"Not a problem," Hotch said, reaching out to shake House's hand. "I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner, and this is SSA David Rossi. We met the rest of your team already."

"Pleasure," House said, as Rossi reached out to shake his hand as well. "You need to inform me of some protocol, or something?"

Hotch looked a smidge taken aback by House's abruptness, but proceeded anyway.

"I don't want to get in the way of you doing your job," he began, sincerity mixing in with the usual seriousness. "But I need assurance that this will be kept confidential. There are things that aren't in Reid's medical file that I want to make sure aren't causing…"

"Doctor-Patient confidentiality," House said, resting both hands on the top of his cane. "And your boy genius already told me about the Dilaudid issue, if that's what you were worried about. We're testing to see if it's done any lasting damage."

"There was that," Hotch answered, eyebrows furrowed.

Chase found himself looking between them, sensing the invisible power struggle between his boss and the unit chief; Agent Hotchner wasn't used to being brushed off and interrupted, and House certainly wasn't used to being told what to do, not even by Cuddy unless it was dire.

"But there is also something else, a matter of national security that wasn't released to the public, but very much affected Reid's health," Hotch said.

"Neither Dr. House or anyone else involved in this case will spread confidential government information," Cuddy replied. "I swear to you."

"Thank you," Hotch said, nodding at her. "I'm not at liberty to discuss the details, but a few months ago Reid was exposed to a new and ciprofloxacin-resistant strain of anthrax. We found the antidote in time, but he did suffer aphasia and lung damage. I thought you should be informed in case it was relevant." He slid the medical file containing the specific strain information across the table to House, which he'd had Dr. Kimura fax to him yesterday.

"Everything is relevant," House mused, a hint of surprise in his voice as he took the papers. "You made the right decision to tell me, unlike most of the idiots I treat. Most of my patients seem to think they know what is and what isn't medically relevant. I've been a doctor for 20 years, and yet…"

"Your patients usually lie?" Rossi asked, curious. "Isn't that counterintuitive?"

"Everybody lies," House responded. "Now if that's all, I'd like to get back to my differential."

"We'll also need to have one of our agents stay with Dr. Reid during the nights, just as a precautionary measure," Rossi added. "I know you don't usually allow weapons in the hospital…"

"As long as you don't shoot me," House replied, nonchalant. "I've had enough…"

"Under the circumstances," Cuddy cut in. "It's fine. We allow law enforcement to keep their weapons."

"Thank you," Hotch said. "We'll let you get back to your work. Let us know if you need anything."

"We will," Cameron responded, as House was already too busy pouring over the file to respond. "We'll be in shortly to run some tests."

With one last exasperated glance at House, Cuddy escorted Hotch and Rossi down the hallway, no doubt apologizing for House's lateness, leaving the diagnostics team alone once more.

"You really don't know when to draw the line do you?" Foreman asked, an incredulous expression on his face.

"It's cute that I can still surprise you after all this time," House said, abandoning the file to go over to the coffee pot. "I was bouncing ideas off Wilson."

"You have to admit that the anthrax thing is something we should know about," Chase said, sipping his own cup of coffee. "And anyway, it's clearly not organophosphate poisoning. The Pralidoxime and the Atropine did nothing to help."

"Fever?" House asked.

"Down to 101 with the acetaminophen and the ice packs every few hours," Cameron replied. "But he's developing a red, dry rash on his arm now."

"And his heart rate is still erratic, and his headaches are worsening," Foreman said. "Could be infection, but the headaches make me think something neurological."

"He's not showing any other neurological symptoms," Chase protested. "Let's wait and see."

"Foreman, go and pester the lab about the drug test results, to see if the old Dilaudid habit is doing this," House said, stirring his coffee absentmindedly as he spoke. "Cameron, go get another blood sample and run a tox screen to see if there's any traces of anthrax, even if I don't think there will be. Then when you're done Chase can take him in for an MRI. I want to check the heart again, even if the echo didn't show anything. Something's obviously wrong. Hell, MRI his head while you're at it, if only to keep from Foreman from looking at me so disdainfully."

With that the three seasoned fellows rose, each off to try and find what was wrong with the worsening Dr. Reid. As Chase followed Cameron and Foreman down the hallway however, he felt a shiver run up his spine. Something wasn't right, that much he could feel…he just had no idea why.


	4. Variation 3

Variation on a Theme

A Criminal Minds/House, M.D. Crossover

A/N: Hi readers! Thank you SO much to everyone who is reading, reviewing, or adding this story to their alerts/favorites. It means a great deal to me to see people enjoying this story, and I love getting your feedback. On that note, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 4: Variation 3

"_Wish that I could cry/Fall upon my knees/Find a way to lie/About a home I'll never see/It may sound absurd, but don't be naïve/Even heroes have the right to bleed/I may be disturbed, but won't you concede/Even heroes have the right to dream/It's not easy to be me." ~ Superman (Five for Fighting)_

A few minutes after Cameron had set off with the blood sample for various tests, Chase had set off with Reid to do the MRIs House had requested. He took a seat in the dim booth after clicking the coil in place and began the procedure, opting to check the brain first. He'd taken note that the young agent had only consumed about half of his lunch, and made a mental note to mention it to House, who would likely argue it was only because the hospital food was "only one step below Riker's Island." Reid kept absolutely still without being asked, and Chase thought it would ease the young man's anxiety if he could talk.

"You've got a pretty tight-knit group of agents," Chase said, flicking on the microphone.

"We practically live together," Reid replied, and Chase could see a small, tight smile on his face as he looked at the screen. "That's what Morgan says, anyway."

"I know all about that," Chase answered. "I've spent more hours in the hospital than I have at home since I started here. Especially when I've been in Diagnostics."

"Dr. House doesn't really seem the type to keep normal hours," Reid said. "He's awfully perceptive though. He'd make a good profiler. You all would."

"A lot of our job is about reading people," Chase said, hesitating slightly before speaking again. "Sorry if he took you by surprise about the Dilaudid issue," he continued, remembering how abrupt House had been, but also remembering the gleam of understanding in his eyes. "He's not exactly a people person."

Chase noticed the apprehensive gleam in Reid's eye at the mention of the Dilaudid, and once again found himself wondering what the story was. He considered how he normally felt about patients who were addicts, how he'd felt helpless to save his own mother, who'd been consumed by her own addiction. But this young man…he fit none of the usual characteristics, and Chase found that he admired his perseverance in overcoming it.

"No," Reid replied. "But that might be why he's good at his job…doesn't let anything get in his way. You seem to like him though."

Chase laughed, but knew it was absolutely the truth. House often drove him up the wall and there had been times he'd been angry beyond reason at him, but the admiration he had for his mentor was insurmountable, for reasons he wasn't even sure he could explain to himself.

"I do," he said, clicking to the next slice. "He grows on you. And I've learned more from him than I could have from anyone else."

Silence fell, and Chase searched for something to talk about; he found Reid more intriguing each time they spoke, remembered that this was what he'd missed while working in surgery, this doctor/patient interaction where he got to learn about the people he was treating. He helped save them, and sometimes, they changed his life.

"So do you have any family coming by?" he asked.

"I…I don't think so," Reid said, suddenly looking heartily saddened. "My mom, well you could guess she's in an institution. I'll call if things get worse, but I know what the worry would do to her. And my Dad…" he trailed off, unable to finish his thought.

"You don't have to explain," Chase said, recognizing this trait. Being compelled to answer a direct question about a father who was absent, but hating to admit it anyone for fear of the vulnerability it broke open. "I get the Dad thing. Believe me."

"I'd love to see my mom," Reid said, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. "But I've got my team." Affection rested in his eyes, and a grin played at his lips. "They're a bit like a bunch of overbearing older siblings whenever anything happens to me."

Chase laughed at this conjecture, but moments later found himself glancing away from the screen as the monitor started beeping. He looked at the screen again, noting that Reid was suddenly tossing around in the machine, hands desperately trying to undo the coil around his head, but to no avail.

"Dr. Reid?" Chase questioned.

"I have to get out!" Reid shouted in a strangled tone of voice. "You have to let me out! He's here! I don't want it…I don't want it!"

"Hang on!" Chase exclaimed, slamming his hand to end the MRI and running out of the booth, releasing Reid from the small tube, suddenly very much wishing it didn't move at a snail's pace.

The monitor screeched louder and more frequently, the echo bouncing off the walls and ringing in Chase's ears. He paged Cameron and pulled down the emergency intercom in seconds.

"I need 5 mg of Haloperidol NOW!" he said, trying to pin down a thrashing Reid.

"It's okay Dr. Reid," he said gently. "There's no one here. It's just me, Dr. Chase."

His arms pinned down, Reid stopped thrashing but shook like a leaf instead, his eyes wide with terror.

"He's here," Reid whispered. "Don't you see him? He's right there!"

"Who's there?" Chase asked gently. "Who do you see Dr. Reid?"

"Tobias," Reid said, and every bit of him sounded shattered. "Tobias Hankel."

Cameron burst through the door seconds later, having grabbed the syringe of Haloperidol from the nurse. She inserted it into the IV line before she even spoke, watching as Reid's body slowly relaxed.

"It's okay Dr. Reid," she said, glancing up at Chase, lines of worry written on her face as she laid a gloved hand on his arm. "This will work in just a moment."

Both doctors were quiet for a moment as they watched the tension recede from Reid's muscles, his eyes falling closed.

"What happened?" Cameron questioned. "It can't be the test…"

"He was hallucinating someone named Tobias Hankel," Chase replied, realizing he had probably just stumbled upon a clue to what had started the Dilaudid problem. "He was fine and then…"

"Some of the tests should be back soon," Cameron said, shaking her head as she paged House. "But former drug use wouldn't cause this, not from so long ago. Neither would remnants of lung damage from anthrax. It could be something with the heart and brain but…."

"Foreman's going to have a field day," Chase said, disgruntled. "He's going to think it's schizophrenia."

"But the physical symptoms, the heart, the fever…"

"I know," Chase said. "I'm just saying that we're going to have to try to persuade House away from the mental illness track because Foreman will jump on the genetic factor. I know that's not what this is."

The door swung open again, revealing House himself, looking oddly serious, a scowl marring his features; interesting cases were his specialty, but this one was more complicated than he'd initially anticipated, and he never liked being one-upped by an illness.

"Foreman's working with Cuddy to set up the private room in the ICU," he said. "We're going to have to move him."

**CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE**

Garcia rested against the wall in the hallway outside Reid's room; he'd been transferred to the ICU for the night, perhaps indefinitely, and the Dean of Medicine had acquired one of the few private rooms on the wing for him. She felt her stomach twist in knots as she looked in through the glass door; Reid's face was positively ghostly in its appearance, her heart aching to see all the wires attached to him, merely thankful that he was still breathing on his own. He'd shooed them out a few moments ago, telling them to go get some rest, actually falling asleep mid-sentence from the concoction of medications.

She glanced up at the rest of the team, her family, each looking distraught in their own manner. They'd been through so much, too much, some might say, and in this moment of weakness, this moment of letting the masks fall, the various traumas of the last few years showed themselves, haunting them. It was the job, but sometimes the job could be almost too much to handle. Morgan had suggested earlier that Reid's constant medical ups and downs had to be the work of an unsub, but that would mean an unsub who had somehow followed them from DC to Jersey, a habit that was nearly unheard of, a revenge-driven agenda if there ever was one, yet none of them could imagine holding such a hostility toward the sweet-tempered genius. Hotch had insisted that they all treat this as an unknown illness until they were proven otherwise; there was no need to add to the doctors' already confusing list of potential causes.

"Should we call Gideon?" she heard JJ ask tentatively, watching as Hotch's eyes widened, looking uncharacteristically ruffled.

"We don't even know where he is JJ," Morgan said, a distinct kindness cutting into his voice through the worry. "Reid tried calling after Gideon resigned. He changed all his numbers."

"Even if we could find his number," Hotch said, and Garcia could feel his penetrating eyes upon her. "He stepped away from this unit for a reason and I'm not sure how he'd react to being contacted. Maybe if it gets worse we can consider it, but right now it's out of the question."

"How much worse does it have to get?" JJ asked, daring to argue the point.

"Not now," Hotch said firmly, sounding exhausted rather than angry. "We need to see how things progress."

Garcia knew better than to directly argue with Hotch in this type of situation, but wondered if Hotch feared what Reid's reaction would be if Gideon arrived; they'd been almost like father and son, and Gideon's departure had very much affected Reid, resilient though he was. Prentiss suggested that they all go down to the cafeteria for some actual sustenance while Reid slept, and Garcia excused herself, saying she was going to the restroom. The truth was she'd thought of calling Gideon the moment she'd heard Reid was this ill; she flashed back to those hellish few days in rural Georgia and Gideon's hand holding her own as they watched Reid dying on the floor, Tobias Hankel's alternate personality watching with a cold, satisfied gleam in his eyes. A sick guilt mixed with a paralyzing sorrow had flitted across Gideon's face, but it was for Garcia's eyes alone; he had maintained his strength for the rest of the team. With that memory in mind she pulled out her phone, having found Gideon's number hours ago. He would be horrified to know he wasn't as good as hiding as he thought he was, not with the connections she had. Gideon had never fully comprehended just how far one could get with modern technology, always astounded at the information she could retrieve.

She dialed the number with shaking hands, assuring herself that she was doing the right thing, but hating having to so openly defy Hotch. She also didn't know how Gideon would react. After all, it had been over two years since any of them had seen him, over two years since Reid had found the letter addressed to him lying on the table at Gideon's cabin. The phone rang once.

Twice.

Three Times.

"Come on…pick up," she whispered, hand clenching into a fist, bright red nails leaving little grooves on her palm.

"Hello?"

It was certainly Gideon, but Garcia found she was startled by the sound of his voice, startled by his answering the phone without his usual reply of "Agent Gideon." Then again, he was no longer a part of the Bureau and that in itself still shocked her, even after all this time.

"Hello? Who is this?" His tone was confused rather than angry, containing the same patience that Garcia had always admired but had never been able to emulate. It was always a bad sign when Gideon lost his temper, when he lost sight of the big picture. It rarely happened, but Garcia had seen the worst of it the night Frank had killed Sarah; there had been an unhinged gleam in Gideon's eyes that she'd never seen before and it had been one of the most frightening nights of her life.

"Hello sir," she stuttered. "I'm sorry to be calling you like this, but the thing is…I don't really know how to say this…oh, God…"

"Garcia?" he asked, truly bewildered now. "How did you… You know what? I don't want to know. Why are you calling me?" His tone was stiff but not unkind, and she knew he was likely reeling from surprise.

"Something's happened…something terrible…I thought you had a right to know, even if I wasn't supposed to call." She twirled a strand of bright blonde hair around her finger, an old nervous habit. "It's Reid, sir."

He didn't respond for a moment, and she could practically hear all the possibilities running circles around his mind, despite the fact that he was likely somewhere very far away.

"Is he alive?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, he is sir, but…"

Garcia stopped mid-sentence when she saw Hotch emerge from the men's restroom across the hall, looking curiously at her. He made his way over to her and she thrust the phone at him.

"What? Garcia, what's going on?" he asked, barely touching the phone as if it were searing his skin. "What are you doing?"

"Just take it!" Garcia exclaimed, voice coming out like a squeak. Ever since she was 18 she'd hated calling to give anyone bad news, had hated it ever since the night the police called to tell her that both of her parents had been killed by a drunk driver.

"Hello?" Hotch asked, giving into her frantic request, exasperated.

"Hotch?" Gideon asked, sounding even more lost now.

"JASON?" Hotch asked, spinning around to frown at Garcia.

"What's happened to Reid, Hotch?" Gideon continued. "I don't know how Garcia found me in the first place, but now that she has…" A smidge of desperation edged its way into his voice.

Hotch sighed, looking at Garcia, who had taken a seat on the nearby bench, her eyes having picked a spot on the floor at which to stare. "Even seasoned FBI agents can't hide from their own kind," he said, running his free hand over his face in frustration.

"I know when you're avoiding," Gideon said in reply. "Please, tell me what's happened."

"He's very, very ill," Hotch finally said, feeling rather odd holding the pink and purple studded phone. "He collapsed a couple of days ago when we were finishing up a case. He's got all kinds of bizarre symptoms that keep coming and going…we've got him here at Princeton-Plainsboro in Jersey, under Dr. Gregory House and his team."

Gideon was silent again and Hotch allowed him a moment, falling into the familiar, easy rhythm of their once close friendship.

"I told the team not to call you," Hotch added in apology. "I said we should wait to see if it got worse."

"It's fine," Gideon replied quickly. "I'm not surprised Garcia wanted to find me. They don't know what it is?"

"No," Hotch answered. "He…he's in the ICU right now. He started hallucinating."

"It's serious then," Gideon said, his words a statement rather than a question. "I don't know if…"

"Reid would never say this to anyone," Hotch broke in, knowing what Gideon was thinking. "But he would want you here. He didn't want you to go, but he understood why you did."

There was only a moment's hesitation.

"I'll fly out tonight."


	5. Variation 4

Variation on a Theme

A Criminal Minds/House, M.D. Crossover

A/N: Hello all! First let me say how sorry I am for the delay in updating. I moved to a new apartment last week, and well, grad school can be a bit overwhelming, as most of my profs seem to think that theirs is the only class I'm taking. Anyhow, my heartfelt thanks to all the wonderful reviewers, and to everyone who is reading this story or adding it to their alerts/favorites. It means a great deal to me to get such a positive response. I hope you enjoy the chapter…it's extra long!

Chapter 5: Variation 4

_"Pictures of you/Pictures of me/Hung upon your wall, for the world to see/Pictures of you/Pictures of me/Remind us all of what we used to be." ~ The Last Goodnight_

Jason Gideon didn't have trouble admitting to himself that he was afraid. He had been afraid thousands of times in the years he'd been in the FBI; he'd been afraid for his fellow agents' lives, for the victims they tried to save…he'd been afraid for his own life. But he didn't like to showcase his own vulnerability unless it was truly necessary. As the seasoned former agent stood outside the main entrance to Princeton Plainsboro  
>Teaching Hospital however, he wondered if he could keep his emotions in check. <em>Remain calm<em>, he told himself. You know these people. They were your friends, your family.

_But you left them all_, a nasty voice chided. _You left Reid with only a letter to explain yourself. _

He'd had to leave the unit, that much was certain. There was no way he could keep his head in the game anymore, and that would only put the victims and his team in danger. He'd achieved a certain level of happiness since his departure, had fought to find his belief in happy endings once more, but it didn't mean that that he didn't feel guilty for how he'd left his team. A deep, familiar voice interrupted his musings, a voice he hadn't heard in over two years.

"Jason?"

Gideon turned to see Hotch standing just behind him. He looked essentially the same, but his frown lines had deepened, and loss was written in his eyes. His tie was ever so slightly loosened around his collar, an oddity to his normally pristine appearance. He remembered an occurrence when a mob hit-man had gotten some swings in on Hotch and proceeded to try and strangle him with a cord. _Loosen your tie for once in your life,_ Gideon had told him upon coming to his aid.

"Hey Hotch," Gideon replied warmly, a smile tugging at his lips as he reached out to shake his old friend's hand. "How are things?"

"They've…" he hesitated, seemingly unwilling to let Gideon into his wounds just yet. "They've been better. Was your flight alright?"

"Fine," Gideon answered. "How's Reid?"

Hotch frowned, a sad gleam in his eyes. "He's asleep right now, still in the ICU. The doctors are working on it, and they gave him some medication to stop the hallucinations for now, but the other symptoms are still getting worse. But hopefully they'll find the right diagnosis soon." He gestured for Gideon to follow him inside.

"So how have you been?" he continued. "Where have you been, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Colorado," Gideon said, glancing over at Hotch as they walked. "Up near the mountain country."

"It's beautiful up there," Hotch said. "Peaceful."

The air around them was filled with questions, questions that would have to be answered eventually. There had been an implicit trust in both their professional and personal relationship, and Gideon had a feeling that with Hotch at least, there was a chance to salvage some of that trust.

Hotch led Gideon down the hallway, the doors to the ICU sliding open in front of them. Their precise, determined steps echoed against the floor in the quiet corridor, easily one of the most melancholy wings in the entire hospital, the fear of death wrapped around it like a vine. He had employed Rossi to get the rest of the team down to the cafeteria for coffee in an attempt to not overwhelm Gideon all at once, but when he saw Morgan standing in the doorway of a sleeping Reid's room, he wasn't wholly surprised. Gideon however, looked mildly shocked, though he tried to conceal it. He stopped in his tracks and put a hesitant hand out, presumably for Morgan to shake.

He didn't accept.

"Hotch, do you really think this is a good idea?" Morgan questioned, his eyes full of more emotions than there was time to interpret, even for an expert profiler. He crossed his arms over his chest, fully in the way of the doorway, ever Reid's protector.

"Garcia called me," Gideon replied before Hotch could speak up, playing to the immense soft spot he knew Morgan had for the technical analyst. "She wanted me to know how sick Reid was. I thought I should come."

"Penelope believes in the best of people," Morgan whispered. "Especially in people who were once a part of this family."

"I'm not here to hurt anyone," Gideon replied as he raised his hands up in defeat, looking like he wanted to reach out and touch Morgan's shoulder, but thinking better of it upon seeing how volatile Morgan was. "On the contrary."

"I get why you needed to leave the Bureau," Morgan said. "You'd done your time and you couldn't take it anymore. You needed to step away. But you could have done that without stepping away from all of us."

Hotch stepped back slightly from the two of them, knowing this confrontation was inevitable. Gideon's departure had affected Morgan far more than he would ever admit; Morgan, who had respected Gideon without pause, who was utterly loyal to the team over everything else, but who also secretly feared that Gideon's fate would one day become his own. Luckily Morgan had slid the door to Reid's room closed, and under the effect of his medication Reid wasn't likely to hear them while he slept.

"You thought you should come now?" Morgan said, emitting an odd, bitter laugh. "Do you even know what's happened since you left?"

"I know…"

"Of course you don't," Morgan cut in, talking over Gideon, something he would never have done in the past. "Because knowing you, you cut off absolutely all ties to anything to do with the FBI once you left that letter for Reid to find. You were always good at hiding…Garcia's the only one in the world who could have possibly found you."

"Morgan," Gideon said, a bite of impatience in his voice now. "Just listen to me."

"Did you know Garcia got shot a few months after you left?" Morgan questioned, hot anger flooding his tone. "She almost died, but she bounced back brighter than ever. JJ had a baby, a boy named Henry. Hotch and all the rest of us almost got blown to smithereens by homegrown terrorists in New York. Reid and Prentiss were taken hostage by a fanatic cult, and Emily was beaten all over her body by the leader." He took a step toward Gideon, who locked eyes with the younger man who had once looked up to him with every ounce of his being. "And there was Foyet, one of the most sadistic, prolific serial killers we've ever come across. He only left me alive because I was knocked unconscious and he wouldn't be able to see the terror in my eyes. He broke into Hotch's home and left him scars that will never heal. He…" his eyes roved over to the unit chief momentarily, a reverence in his tone as his voice nearly broke. "He killed Haley while we all listened on the phone, and only missed Jack because Hotch took him down."

Morgan stopped for a moment, turning to look through the glass at Reid before turning back to Gideon, a fire in his eyes. The older man's eyes widened as they flickered over to Hotch, feeling very much as though someone had socked him hard and direct in the solar plexus. His own images of all the things Morgan was saying swirled around his mind, overcoming his ability to think straight. On the outside however, he kept calm, making eye contact once again with Morgan after tearing his eyes away from Hotch. He wanted to reach out to Hotch, but knew that Hotch would prefer he did so privately.

"And Reid," Morgan continued, shaking his head. "Where do I even begin? You left Reid when he'd been through _absolute_ hell. Did you know how hard he had to work to kick that Dilaudid addiction? Did you know he hated himself for it, that for months all he saw when he closed his eyes was Tobias Hankel's face? Did you know that we had a case in Las Vegas and he saw his father, the father who abandoned him, for the first time since he was 10-years-old? Did you know?" Morgan said, lowering his voice so that no one but the three of them could hear. "That he almost died of anthrax poisoning? That he got shot in the leg? You didn't. Because you abandoned him. You know? The kid already had so many ghosts haunting his past… I just never thought you'd join their ranks."

"That's enough Morgan," Hotch said softly, stepping in for Gideon's sake and before the conversation disrupted the other patients.

Hotch looked on as the agent he trusted absolutely with his life stared down the former agent who had once been one of his greatest friends, his mentor even, the tension between then palpable enough to reach out and touch.

"You're right," Morgan said, a sad, hollow ache replacing his anger. "That is enough." He turned to leave, then faced Gideon once more, wistful now, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He remembered the shine of admiration in Reid's eyes when he had looked at Gideon, the expression there that had been desperate for his mentor's approval. But no more; the kid stood on his own two feet now, confident in his own skin, confident to fully make his own decisions in this job. "He doesn't need your approval anymore Gideon," Morgan continued. "That kid's helped save more lives than half the Bureau with his brains and his guts and his empathy, and he's got people who didn't abandon him to turn to if he needs us."

With that, Morgan was gone, undoubtedly to join the rest of the team in the cafeteria, leaving Hotch with a dumbstruck Gideon.

"I'm sorry," Hotch said. "He…"

"Is understandably upset with me," Gideon finished for him, very obviously not wanting to discuss it at the moment. His gaze landed on Reid, who still slept soundly.

"I'll give you a minute," Hotch said.

Gideon nodded in reply, sliding the door open as quietly as possible. He stood unmoving for a few moments, frozen in his doubt over whether or not he should have returned. Spencer's hair was longer, and though he would always be gangly, he looked older, more filled out than when Gideon had seen him last, but his youth still peeked through. He stepped toward one of the chairs clustered around the bed and sat down, noiseless. He tilted his head as he looked at Reid, remembering his first day at the BAU at the tender age of twenty-one. He'd been unsure, hesitant, and so very young, but he'd excelled beyond the already high expectations, stepping into the job with a fearless gleam in his eyes. Confidence had always been an issue, but somehow he doubted that was true anymore, if Morgan's words were any indication. Spencer had been like a son to him, but Gideon knew the immense changes that could occur in just over two and half years, especially in the mid-twenties. He wasn't sure he would know the young man before him anymore, finding that the notion struck an odd sort of fear within him.

Before he quite knew what he was doing, he took Reid's hand as gently as if it were breakable and held it in his own, his memory flashing back to the time he'd sat with Elle in the hospital after she'd been shot. He sat this way for several minutes; the only audible sounds in the room were the machines quietly beeping and Reid's shallow breaths. It was a fleeting feeling of the peace Gideon had been searching for since his departure, and he found it entirely ironic that he found a glimpse of it upon his return to his old friends at the BAU. He was jolted from his thoughts by the sound of rustling sheets and let go of Reid's hand, seeing that his eyes were opening. He blinked several times as though he thought Gideon was a hallucination, which was one of the things that had landed him in the ICU in the first place, after all.

"Gideon?" he asked, hoarse from sleep, utterly bewildered.

"Hey there Spencer," he said, a benevolent smile gracing his features, clearing his throat in an attempt to quell the rush of uninvited emotion that threatened him.

"Are you…" Reid started to ask, sitting up against the pillows. "I wasn't expecting you."

"I found out you were sick," Gideon replied, pouring a glass of water for Reid and handing it over to him. "I thought I should come see how things were progressing."

Both knew of course that he'd come because there was a good chance that Reid's life was in danger, but both were masters at avoidance, and let that particular topic alone.

"How did you find out?" Reid asked, looking through the glass to see the rest of the team gathering around Hotch, a small, tired smile playing at his lips as his eyes found Garcia. "Never mind," he said with a shake of his head. "I wasn't thinking."

Silence fell, the space between the two pronounced, a cloud of memories shading both their eyes; memories of chess games, of long talks on the jet…of sitting in a New Orleans bar baring their souls about the sometimes devastating effects of the job they did. Reid was guarded, Gideon noticed, more so than he had ever been around him, aside perhaps from their first few meetings. He'd been Reid's mentor, had been the one who had first brought him to the BAU when he'd been in the academy, but now found he didn't know what to say. He'd recognized a strength in Reid from the very start, a resilience, but now it shone through more than it had in the past; he'd grown comfortable with himself and with his place on the team.

"I hear you took a bullet to the knee," Gideon finally said, feeling like that was the safest topic to bring up from Morgan's laundry list.

"Just got rid of the cane actually," Reid replied."Unsub wouldn't drop his gun and tried to shoot the surgeon we were protecting. They don't make body vests for legs." He smiled, relaxing a little.

"Gotten anymore degrees since I've been gone?" Gideon asked, fully aware of the rest of the team's eyes upon him from the other side of the glass.

"Working on one in Philosophy actually," Reid answered. "Thought it might be nice to try something different, something where the lines are a little blurred."

Gideon was about to respond when there was knock at the door and the sound of it sliding open, revealing Rossi's face.

"So I hear you're the one who got this kid into the BAU," Rossi said in greeting, eyes flickering between the two.

"He got himself in," Gideon said, rising from his seat. "I just got lucky enough to come across him. How are you Dave?" he asked, reaching out to shake his old colleague's hand.

"Oh you know," Rossi replied, returning Gideon's handshake with warmth. "Same old story. Got tired of the book tours and decided to get back into the action. So much for early retirement." He turned to Reid. "How ya feeling kiddo?"

Reid shrugged. "Not so fantastic, but a little better than earlier. You guys have been here for hours…you should really go get some rest."

"Right," Rossi said with a laugh. "That won't happen until Hotch insists or your doctors kick us out."

"What if I kick you out?" Reid suggested slyly.

"Not sure that would fly," Rossi said, clapping Reid gently on the shoulder.

Gideon watched the two interact, watched Reid grow fatigued even after only a few minutes of consciousness. He'd known the team would move on with their lives, had known somebody would take his position, but seeing Rossi here, talking with Reid so easily, so amiably, left him feeling…he couldn't put a finger on what the word was. When he'd received the phone call from Garcia, when he'd talked to Hotch, he knew he hadn't been prepared for how sick Reid actually was. The words he'd said to Hotch when Reid was being held captive by Tobias Hankel flashed through his mind:

_"Reid's brilliant. He'll find a way to survive."_

But it wasn't that simple. Nothing was simple anymore. Gideon watched as JJ broke away from the team, slipping from underneath Hotch's watchful gaze and entered the room, cell phone in hand.

"Hey JJ," Reid said. "What do you have there?" he asked, gesturing to what looked like a picture on her phone screen.

"A picture I wanted to show you," she said, a small smile on her face. She turned to Gideon, and moved in to hug him briefly. "Hi Gideon. It's good to see you," she said, and he knew she meant it.

"You too JJ," he said, returning her embrace. "Is that your little boy?"

"It is," she said. "Henry." She turned the picture toward Reid. "Remember that book you bought him from that children's bookstore in Alexandria just before we left on the case? Will started reading it to him, and when he told him it was from you he kept asking to have it read again and again. Now he won't let go of it."

Reid's face lit up as he took the phone from JJ to get a closer look.

"Like godfather like godson I suppose," Rossi said.

"Godfather huh?" Gideon asked, face splitting into a grin for the first time since he'd arrived. "That's a big job."

"He's great at it," JJ responded, slipping the phone back into her pocket. "At least he isn't constantly buying Henry new clothes. Garcia bought him a leather jacket when he was six months old."

"Now that I can believe," Gideon said, eyeing the technical analyst, who looked deep in conversation with Morgan and Prentiss, eyes darting back and forth between her friends and the chair where he sat. He saw Hotch silently beckon Rossi and JJ into the hallway, and the two slipped out, leaving Gideon and Reid alone with an awkward silence.

"Reid, I…" Gideon started, but Reid shook his head, stopping his words.

"I need to have more strength for this conversation," Reid admitted, but his tone was not altogether unfriendly. "As soon as I'm better we can have it."

Gideon paused before replying, his chest tightening, but reminding himself that he had so far received a warm welcome, aside from Morgan.

"You're angry with me," he stated. It wasn't a question.

"I was," he said, looking directly into his former mentor's eyes now. "Then I was hurt. After that, I was just confused, and I tried to push that entire ordeal out of the forefront of my mind. I couldn't make sense of it."

"I understand," Gideon said, standing up and resting a very careful hand on his shoulder. "We'll talk when you get better. You should probably rest now."

He made to leave, but turned around once more at the sound of Reid's voice.

"I am glad you're here, Gideon," he said, a tired smile on his face.

"Me too," Gideon whispered, exiting the room and coming face to face with Prentiss and Garcia, whom he had yet to greet.

"Hi Gideon," Prentiss said, reaching out to shake his hand. "It's good to see you."

"You too Emily," he answered, taking her hand. He remembered Morgan's story about the cult who had captured Prentiss and Reid, imagined Emily fighting back against her attacker, refusing to go down without a struggle. He watched her eyes glance back inside Reid's room, and in that glance he saw just how close her friendship with the younger man had become.

With that, he looked at Garcia, unsurprised to see tears in her eyes. They seemed to say, _you came_.

"Welcome home sir," she said, although she refrained from hugging him. "Welcome home."

**CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE**

While the BAU team reunited with one of their own, Chase sat around the Diagnostics table with House, Cameron, and Foreman, heartily wishing he could burn the neurologist with his eyes.

Chase genuinely liked Foreman. They'd had their disagreements, especially in the beginning, but over the past few years they'd developed a solid friendship. They went out for drinks, out to dinner with Cameron along, and groused to each other about the hospital goings on. They trusted each other's medical opinion.

But at the moment, Chase wanted to slap him.

"His hallucination, the genetic factor, the age," Foreman was saying. "I'm just saying, it could fit."

"It isn't Schizophrenia," Chase argued, hand gripping the edge of the table in his frustration. "He had _one_ hallucination, which could be caused by any number of other conditions. He lives a completely stable life…he has a career…."

"Some schizophrenics can function normally," Foreman protested. "Especially in the beginning."

"What's your explanation for the other symptoms then?" Chase shot back, not bothering to hide his irritation. "He could have a tumor, he could Para neoplastic syndrome from cancer…"

"Boys, boys, boys," House cut in. "It's really only my opinion that counts anyway."

"Right," Cameron replied, sarcasm flooding her tone as her gaze bounced between Chase and Foreman. "That's why you have a team. So you can just listen to your own opinion and talk to yourself."

"It isn't Schizophrenia," Chase said again. "We need to stop focusing on it."

"Why are you so testy about this?" House questioned, leaning back in his chair and peering at his long-time fellow. "You know how caring too much about a patient can get in the way. " He glanced at Cameron for emphasis, but she only rolled her eyes.

"I just think it's a hasty diagnosis," Chase replied. "That's not what it is."

"Probably not," House said. "But it could be."

"It could be his autonomic nervous system," Chase swiftly replied, looking very much like a light bulb had gone off in his head. "It ties the brain and the heart together, the tachycardia, the delirium, the temperature control problems, the headaches, the vision…"

House raised his eyebrows, curiosity piqued. "Interesting insight," he said, offering a rare compliment.

"It could definitely fit," Cameron agreed.

"What you're married so you have to agree about everything now?" House asked, tapping his fingers on the table.

"No," Cameron protested. "I'm just saying it's a valid theory."

House thought for a moment while staring intently at Chase, who returned the stare with just as much intensity.

"It's a good theory," House admitted, standing up and turning to go into his office. "Go run the tests, but keep him on the Haloperidol and the NSAIDS. Keep checking the heart rate and pray to the deity of your choice that boy genius doesn't get worse."

With that, Foreman, Cameron, and Chase exited Diagnostics, Chase grinning victoriously over at Foreman.

"Get that grin off your face man," Foreman said, shaking his head in annoyance. "You won this round."

"You boys," Cameron said, a slight chuckle in her tone. "Always competing."

"I just want Dr. Reid to get better," Chase replied. "He's a nice guy who does a seriously important job. But it's a nice fringe benefit to one-up you Foreman."

Foreman rolled his eyes in response and bid his friends goodbye as he headed off to clinic duty, leaving Cameron and Chase to run the tests and check on Dr. Reid. Chase felt his wife looking at him with a particular look in her eye, a look he recognized well.

"You really fought for that diagnosis," she said, resting a hand on her hip. "You usually stand by your theory, but this patient you're really bonding with."

"Yeah," Chase answered, slipping his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. "It's just…some of the patients we treat, they lie to us, to their families, to their friends. They don't look outside their front doors. It's refreshing to see someone different."

Cameron nodded, but her reply was cut off by a female voice from behind.

"Excuse me, doctors?"

The pair turned to see a twenty-something girl with almost white-blonde hair and bright purple eye shadow behind them, dressed in a pair of pink scrubs and pushing a cart of food trays.

"Sorry to bother you, but I just started working here and I keep getting all turned around. Could you point me toward the ICU?"

"Sure," Chase answered. "It's two floors up, then turn left and it's all the way at the end of the hallway."

"Thanks," she glanced at his name tag. "Dr. Chase."

"Do you go to the university?" Cameron asked.

"I do," the girl answered. "I'm doing a volunteer program here at the hospital. I just like to help out. I'm Kelly Lewis."

"Dr. Cameron," Cameron replied, reaching out to shake the girl's hand. Chase did so as well.

"Nice to meet both of you," she chirped, a bright smile on her face. "Thanks again!"

She waved as she turned back toward the elevator, a bounce in her step.

"She's..." Chase paused, searching for a proper word but was unable to find one. "Happy."

"Very," Cameron said, eyeing Kelly's back with a bemused expression.

"Well we'd better go reserve the room. Or kick someone out if none of the testing rooms are empty," Chase said. "As House always tells us, no waiting in line. In any case, Dr. Reid doesn't have any time to waste."


	6. Variation 5

Variation on a Theme

A Criminal Minds/House, M.D. Crossover

A/N: Hi all! Thank you so much again to everyone who is reading, reviewing, or alerting/putting this story on their favorites…it seriously means the world to me, and keeps me inspired to write. Sorry for the bit of the delay on the chapter…what with grad school and moving to a new apartment I went a little over a week. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please let me know what you think! Also, just to put everyone at ease, I do not kill major characters in my stories, mostly because it would make me cry a river of tears, so breathe easy, I just bring them close. : )

Chapter 6: Variation 5

"_When you were standing in the wake of devastation/When you were waiting on the edge of the unknown/With the cataclysm raining down/Insides crying save me now/You were there/Impossibly alone." ~ Iridescent (Linkin Park)_

Reid sat up in his hospital bed, silently running his finger up and down the pages of one of the books Garcia had brought him, but was only pretending to read. He was awake for the first time in hours since Gideon had left the room, and JJ sat cross-legged on the cot across from him, taking her shift for staying the night. She was concentrating intently on her laptop screen, hair tossed up in a ponytail. Reid continued turning the pages of his book, but his mind was far from taking in any information.

He couldn't stop thinking about his hallucination.

It wasn't so much the subject of his hallucination that bothered him; yes, the Tobias Hankel episode and the subsequent Dilaudid addiction would always haunt him, and both had forever changed him. No, what was truly bothering him was the fact that he'd hallucinated in the first place. He shook his head, trying to force himself to be logical. Paranoid schizophrenia usually presented with auditory hallucinations, not visual ones, and he hadn't become violent, had any unusual anxiety, or any delusions that someone was watching him. He also knew that the condition oftentimes skipped a generation.

But there were always exceptions to the rule.

He closed his book with a snap, causing JJ to look up at him, perplexed.

"Sorry," he said. "Accident."

"You okay?" JJ asked, lowering the screen of her laptop in order to look at him properly. He was sure she knew what worry was plaguing him, but he didn't know if he could find it within himself to admit it out loud.

"Yeah, I…I just really don't feel well."

"Spence." She raised both eyebrows at him, fully closing her laptop now. "I may not be a profiler, but I've picked up a few tricks along the way."

"Am I that easy to profile?" he asked in an attempt to joke, but he knew there was no lying to her in this situation.

"Not to just anyone," she reassured him. "But I know you. It's the hallucination that's bothering you, isn't it?"

"Yes," he answered, meeting her eyes and seeing nothing but compassion there. "I've been afraid…for years." He felt his heart starting to pound at the mere mention of it, making it beat faster than it already was. He could lose his job, his reputation…the co-workers who were the only family he had aside from his mother.

"Spence," JJ said, moving to sit on the edge of his bed, and he unconsciously moved aside to make room. "I don't think that's what it is. You know all there is to know about it." She avoided the word he noticed, likely because he was doing the same. "You would have noticed the signs already, and the fact that you were already sick and _then_ hallucinated…it probably ties into whatever's wrong with you. You know all kinds of stuff about neurological conditions, so you know I have a point."

He nodded, knowing she was likely correct, but the thought of anything being wrong with his brain bothered him still. Even if it was curable, he feared permanent damage might be done, and as much as the team joked about the size of his brain, his intelligence defined a large part of his identity, and he didn't know what he would do if that was in any way affected.

"I know it probably isn't that," he agreed. "I'm getting toward the end of the age spectrum, and the symptoms don't really fit, but I just couldn't help but consider it."

JJ reached over to take one of his hands, eyes shining with affection. "I know in my gut that's not what it is," she said. "And I honestly don't think it will ever happen to you. But if it ever did," she squeezed his hand for emphasis, "We would all be there for you. There's not a question. Just like you were there for your Mom. Like you still are."

He nodded, relaxing a little against the pillows. "Thanks JJ," he whispered. "That means a lot. How are Will and Henry?" he asked, finding he desperately need to change the subject and deflect the attention off of himself. "Don't they…"

"They know I need to be here," she finished for him, tilting her head slightly as she glanced through the glass to see Morgan, Garcia, and Prentiss approaching.

"I thought they all went back to the hotel," Reid said, perplexed but not wholly surprised.

"Me too," JJ said. "Those nurses wouldn't put up with this many people in the ICU if we weren't in the FBI. Guess that's a perk."

The door slid open and the trio entered; Prentiss' face was lined with frustration as though she had been refereeing a dispute, and Reid noticed that both Morgan and Garcia looked irritated with one another, albeit slightly sheepish as well. They hardly ever argued, so he found this a tad disconcerting.

"What brings you three?" he asked, trying to sit up further against the pillows, still feeling his heart beating fast against his chest. Dr. Chase had administered some medication that slowed it down, but it still felt uncomfortable. His senses felt dulled from the Haloperidol, but he tried to focus on his friends rather than on how awful he felt…how worried he felt that a diagnoses had yet to arrive.

"We just wanted to check on you," Prentiss said, taking a seat next to JJ on the cot. "We all fell asleep earlier and then couldn't go back to sleep, so we came here." Her concerned dark eyes roved over him, and as he often did, he felt that she could see right inside his mind. She was ever in tune to other people, perhaps more so than any of them. "How are you feeling? You didn't really eat."

"I tried," Reid admitted, glancing over at his dinner tray. "But I always feel worse when I eat."

Silence fell, which with Garcia in the room was strange; she kept looking at him and then looking away, a sure sign she wondered if she'd made the right decision in calling Gideon.

"Garcia," he said softly, and she looked at him in response. "I don't mind that you called Gideon. I understand why you would."

"Really?" she said, relief flooding her voice as she sat down on the edge of the bed. "I was worried…but I thought…"

"I was surprised," he said, eyes flitting up to Morgan, who was watching him intensely. "And it's a little awkward, but I know you were just thinking of me. It's fine, I promise. It's…good to see him, despite the way he left."

"Good," she said, patting his hand with her bright red nails. "See, Derek?" she questioned, but she was not hostile. "He's okay."

"I was just worried," Morgan responded, finally taking a seat in the chair next to the bed. "I wasn't mad at you Baby Girl, it's just…Gideon. There's a lot of conflict there." He looked at Reid again. "And I didn't know how you'd feel about seeing him again."

"Is he with Hotch and Rossi?" JJ asked.

"Yeah. Mom, Dad, and Grandpa are all sitting in the hotel café," Morgan said. "They've been drinking coffee for hours. They could almost out do you, kid."

"Doubt it," Reid laughed, wishing the pounding in his head would go away. He suddenly felt very vulnerable sitting here in front of his friends, his family, wearing his thin hospital gown with a nasal cannula up his nostrils, having not showered since he'd arrived at the hospital. He'd tried to wash his hair in the sink, but he'd felt weak halfway through, so it hadn't done a lot of good. He wondered what Hotch and Rossi were discussing with Gideon, and he wondered when Gideon would come back, and what he would say exactly.

"So what's the latest?" Emily asked.

"They think it might be something with the autonomic nervous system," Reid replied, a glimmer of his usual self appearing. He'd looked up the condition on JJ's laptop as soon as the diagnostics team had mentioned it. "Specifically Postural Orthostatic tachycardia syndrome."

"Which is?" Garcia asked. "Gotta explain to us mere mortals sweetcheeks."

"It's basically a decrease in cerebral blood flow, which causes the increased heart rate and my other symptoms," Reid said, trying to get to the point he knew they were all most concerned with. "It can be controlled with medication, and the condition can improve. It's not completely curable, but it's manageable in most cases."

JJ rose from her position on the cot once again, looking at Reid's eyes and then down to his neck, which he'd unconsciously started scratching.

"Spence, your pupils are really dilated," she said, frowning slightly. "And that rash is getting worse."

"Yeah," Reid said, looking over as the monitor beeped, signaling that his temperature had risen to 101 despite the acetaminophen. "Dr. Chase said he and Dr. Cameron would be here until 9 and then Dr. Foreman…"

But Garcia was once again already out the door to flag down a nurse, and less than 5 minutes later, Chase had found his way to the room.

"What's up?" he asked, blonde eyebrows furrowed as his eyes landed on the rash. He walked over to Reid and pulled out his penlight. "Open your eyes wide for me?" he requested.

Reid complied, trying not to blink against the light directly in his eyes. Chase pulled back, taking note of the rising fever.

"What does this mean?" Reid asked, seeing that the gleam of concern in Dr. Chase's eyes now mixed with the spark of an idea.

"It's not the autonomic nervous system, not with this fever problem still going on, and the rash…"

"Do you know what it could be?" Morgan asked, clenching his hand into a fist, but he looked hopeful still.

"I just might," Chase replied. "I don't think we'll be needing that tilt-table test in the morning."

**CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE**

"Atropine Poisoning," Chase said the moment House walked in the door, backpack still on his shoulders.

"My you're on the ball this morning," House groused, obviously having not had enough coffee. "And stop stealing my thunder. I was going to come in here and suggest that like the genius we all know I am."

"He developed a rash last night, and his fever keeps getting worse," Chase continued, taking a rather sly sip of his coffee. "It fits with the rest of his symptoms."

"How would he get it though?" Foreman asked. "He's not taking Atropine."

"Poisoning," House said matter of factly.

"I thought you were the one who said he wasn't being poisoned," Cameron replied.

"No I said, he _probably_ wasn't being poisoned," House replied. "What, you don't agree with your lover boy?"

"I think it's a definite possibility, yes," she answered, ignoring his use of nicknames with the ease of someone who had grown used to his antics. "I was just saying."

"Run the tox screen then, no dawdling," House said to Chase, making his way over to the coffee pot. "We started diagnosing before I even had my caffeine, that's almost unforgivable."

"You don't want us to start the Physostigmine?" Foreman asked, an indicated interest in his tone. "That's…"

"Physostigmine can cause seizures if used for the wrong reason, idiot," House said, resorting to the normal term of endearment he reserved for his fellows. "Shouldn't you know that? You're the neurologist."

"I'm sure he knows," Chase replied, eyes watching House's face curiously. But you aren't usually so cautious. You aren't ever cautious."

"I just thought that the kid's brain might not need any more damage since if it is Atropine it has obviously passed through the blood brain barrier, as the hallucination indicated," House deflected. "Seizures can cause problems you know, which I thought the three of you might have learned in med school…"

"Interesting," Chase said. "You aren't so willing to take risks on this patient. Do you want to experiment on his brain, or something?"

"Just do what I said," House grumbled, setting to make his coffee as his three fellows left the office, laughing amongst themselves, but intrigued nevertheless.

Just over an hour later, Chase pulled the results of the tox screen from the printer in the lab. His eyes widened as they fell on the results: they indicated Atropine toxicity, that much was clear. He had hardly dared believe that he and House might be right, but of all the things he'd learned from House, he'd learnt that thinking outside the box could pay off. He didn't know how the Atropine had gotten into Dr. Reid's system, but if the levels got any higher there was an immediate risk for respiratory depression and medullary paralysis…the blurred vision, the raging headaches, the hallucinations, everything fell into place. He'd need more than one course of Physostigmine to flush it out of his system, and he'd need a great deal of rest with levels that were so alarmingly high, but he was certain they'd caught it in time. But if Dr. Reid had fallen ill when he'd been at home, and then gotten even worse during his stay at the hospital, then that could only mean someone had followed him all the way to Jersey... His thoughts of playing private investigator were interrupted when he felt a hand on his shoulder, turning around to see the orderly, Kelly, behind him with a frantic expression on her face, blonde hair slipping from its high ponytail.

"Dr. Chase!" she exclaimed. "You're the first doctor I've found! A little girl just got hit in the parking on the next level up! It looks bad, and…"

"Where?" Chase asked instantly, placing the lab results securely in his pocket and reaching for his pager to tell Cameron the results and to send an ER team to the garage. He pressed the button to send the message, but found it wasn't working. "What the hell?" he questioned, stopping in his tracks. He'd used his pager last night right before he'd taken a shower in the locker room, and it seemed to be working fine…

"Dr. Chase, hurry!" Kelly exclaimed, tears welling up in her eyes.

Chase followed her silently, running after her down the hallway. He reached in his pocket for his phone, but realized he'd left it charging in the conference room.

"The man just hit her and drove off," Kelly said as they entered the elevator. "I was out getting something from my car and saw the whole thing. I tried to wake her, but she…she wasn't moving."

"Was she breathing?" Chase questioned as they hurried off the elevator, Kelly pointing the way toward an empty spot on the other side of a small green sedan.

"Barely," Kelly answered, gasping for breath.

They reached the empty spot, and Chase looked around, seeing nothing.

"Did someone take her?" he asked, bewildered. "What…"

But his words were cut off by the plunge of a needle in his neck, and the last thing he saw before falling to the ground, completely unconscious, was the satisfied glint in Kelly's eyes.

What he didn't see was Kelly pulling the lab results from his pocket and ripping them into shreds in the backseat of her car, or throwing the pager she'd taken the battery out of to the concrete, before dragging him with all her might into the trunk.


	7. Variation 6

Variation on a Theme

A Criminal Minds/House, M.D. Crossover

Chapter 7: Variation 6

_"How many times can I break till I shatter/Over the line, can't define what I'm after/I always turn the car around/Give me a break, let me make my own pattern/All that it takes is some time/But I'm shattered/I always turn the car around." ~ Shattered (OAR)_

Reid shut his eyes against the sharp pain in his head, shifting restlessly beneath the thin sheets. Beads of sweat gathered at his forehead, yet he felt distinctly chilled; he felt outside of himself, almost, as if he couldn't fully comprehend what was going on around him, and that frightened him, much as he was loathe to admit it. He opened his eyes to see Hotch and Gideon looking at him while Rossi read, pointedly sparing Reid from his stares. Even when he'd contracted Anthrax and there had been a good chance he would die within hours, Reid had been discreet about how he was feeling, deflecting and focusing on the case so his friends wouldn't worry and they could save America from certain disaster. But here in this small room when there wasn't a pending national crisis, it was more difficult.

"Reid?" Hotch asked, kindness in his usually business-like tone. He sounded almost as if he were talking to Jack. "I think it's time you accepted the more effective pain killers."

It wasn't an order exactly, but it wasn't just a suggestion either. Being respectful of other people's privacy as he always was, Hotch had never said the word "Dilaudid" to Reid, had kept his secret even if it could have cost him his own job. He had guided Reid, tried to help him where he could when he knew he was trying to kick the habit, and the younger man couldn't have been more grateful. Morgan and JJ had both spent nights with Reid during that first period of withdrawal, only reporting to Hotch that Reid was okay. Hotch would look him over in the mornings, but never mentioned it, only discreetly slipping the card for Beltway Clean Cops into his hand one night when Reid was feeling better, walking away without saying a word.

"Hotch," Reid protested politely. "I can't."

He noticed Gideon's eyes roving quickly between them over the tops of his reading glasses, and although Rossi still looked at his book, he wasn't reading.

"I don't believe there would be any consequences," Hotch said in the same tone as before, careful to use 'consequences' rather than 'relapse'. "And you're in a great deal of pain."

Reid felt tempted, but it wasn't because of the distant cravings he sometimes still experienced; it was because of the pain.

"I'll think about it," he said, giving in a bit. He knew he was stubborn, but he'd worked so, so hard. He knew this was a more than acceptable reason to accept narcotics…any sane person would, but part of him didn't want to.

"Hotch has a point," Gideon said, eyes boring into Reid's for a fleeting second, an apology written within them.

The childish part of Reid wanted to tell Gideon he didn't have a right to an opinion on the matter since he'd left in the middle of it, but the bigger part of Spencer that was pleased to see his old mentor bade the child within him remain silent.

"They're testing for Atropine Poisoning?" Rossi chimed in. "How would that even be possible?"

"I don't know," Reid shrugged, wishing he did. "But they seemed to believe the symptoms fit."

"Do they think someone's trying to poison you?" Gideon asked, slightly taken aback. "But that would mean someone following you from Virginia…" He looked to Hotch for an answer.

"If the tests are positive, we'll have to start a preliminary investigation, get more security here, alert Quantico…" Hotch began, but his words were cut off by the arrival of Morgan, who looked flustered.

"What's wrong?" Reid asked, noting the furious, yet apprehensive gleam in his friend's eyes. "Did something happen?"

Morgan hesitated, and it made Reid's stomach sink. If anything had happened to someone else…

"Morgan?" Hotch pressed.

"Dr. Chase is missing," Morgan finally said, slowing pulling a sheet of lavender paper from his pocket. "A nurse at the front desk found this, but she didn't see who dropped it off."

Hotch took the offending piece of paper, his voice echoing through the now silent room as he read its contents.

_Dear BAU Agents and Princeton-Plainsboro Diagnostics Team,_

_ Surprised? I thought you might be. I'm terribly sorry for having to take the charming Dr. Chase away, but you see, he was getting quite in the way of my plan to kill poor, pathetic little Dr. Reid, and I just couldn't have that. _

_ My guess is that you'll have two dead doctors on your hands soon._

_ Unless you play by my rules, then you might only have one. Allow Dr. Reid to die, and then I'll return Dr. Chase to you…although I won't guarantee he'll be in the same condition._

_ Are you upset that I'm going to succeed in getting rid of your precious little genius, Agent Hotcher? I know how you always try to look out for him. And apologize to Dr. House for me…you know, it would really be a tragedy to have to kill such a lovely specimen such as Dr. Chase just to save Dr. Reid, but I'll do what I must. _

_ Look for my call. _

Hotch's voice echoed in the now silent room as he read the letter, but before commenting on it he saw to the situation at hand, but his eyes landed on his youngest team member even as he spoke to Morgan.

"The Princeton P.D. has been contacted?"

"Officers and a CSI team will be here in five minutes," Morgan replied, also not taking his eyes off Reid.

"Did they get an image of the kidnapper?" Rossi asked, rising from his chair.

"She took him from the parking garage. They got a partial image, but it's not wonderful."

"She?"

Morgan nodded in response looking over to Gideon for a moment, trying to get a read on him.

"The language in the note indicates a female unsub," Reid said, finding that the only way to put a sane turn on the situation was to spout information forth, because even after all this time, some things still surprised him.

He felt a pit of anxiety grow in his stomach, sending fiery nerves throughout at the thought of what could be happening to Dr. Chase merely for trying to diagnose his patient. It was disturbing beyond belief that someone had crept into his life unnoticed, had poisoned him with Atropine or some unknown toxin. He was not foolish enough to think that he was safe here in the hospital even if they knew someone was targeting him; he'd seen criminals slip in absolutely undetected, and he knew, even if no one else would admit it, that he was declining rapidly.

"If I could take a look at the handwriting," he continued, but was cut off by Hotch shaking his head fervently.

"You've got to rest, Reid."

"At least let me work the case until I can't anymore," Reid said, a trace of pleading in his tone.

"You're biased…"

"So are you!" Reid said, looking to Morgan for support.

"Maybe later," Hotch said, softening a bit. "But right now you absolutely stay here and do not leave this room. I've got to find Drs. House, Cameron, and Foreman, and the rest of the team. We've also got to brief Dr. Cuddy about the personnel allowed in this room." He ran a hand across Reid's shoulder before looking to Gideon. "We will be back, but can you please stay here with Reid? He is to be alone under absolutely no circumstances."

"Yes" Gideon said, his voice containing a hoarse quality, as though getting so violently thrown back into his old world had left him speechless.

Reid watched as he moved to the seat directly next to his bed, turning so that he could both see Reid and anyone who was approaching. And as Hotch, Morgan, and Rossi exited to find the diagnostics team, Reid felt helpless, wishing more than anything that he could go with them.

**CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE **

Hotch never enjoyed breaking bad news, but to this mystery of a man, it might have been even more difficult, he thought as he stepped inside the diagnostics conference room to see House peering at something on his computer screen, reading glasses fully in place.

"Boy genius' test results should be ready in just a few minutes," he said without looking up. "I sent Chase but apparently he got lost, so I sent Foreman to go get them."

"Dr. House?" Hotch asked. "I really need you to listen."

"More rules to brief me on?"

Hotch breathed in, mouth set in a firm line.

"Dr. Chase has been kidnapped," he said. "And it turns out this same person is the cause of Reid's illness."

It was deathly quiet for a solid minute before House responded, a series of emotions playing out across his face; mocking disbelief, fear, sadness, then to denial.

"What the hell do you mean Chase has been kidnapped?" House scoffed, looking at Hotch over the tops of his reading glasses. "He probably just skipped out to go play polo…or you could check the storage closets, he and Dr. Cameron used to enjoy…"

"Dr. House," Hotch said, cutting him off. "I'm sorry, but we just found this note at the entrance desk and Dr. Chase's broken pager in the parking garage. I've got Agent Jareau contacting the police now to set up roadblocks…"

"Give me that," House said, snatching the note out of Hotch's hand, his bright blue eyes widening as they roved over the words.

"Isn't it your job," House began, his tone sounding dangerous as he finished reading the note. "To keep stuff like this from happening!"

"Isn't it your job to make patients better instead of making them worse?" Morgan shot back, a flash of ire in his eyes.

"Morgan," Hotch warned, not to be argued with.

Before anyone could speak again the door swung open, revealing a wild-eyed Cameron flanked by Prentiss, whom Hotch had sent to give her the news, knowing how well her gentleness fared in breaking this sort of thing to families. She wasn't crying, and that unnerved Hotch far more than if she'd been sobbing. Even House kept silent as Cameron walked up to Hotch, the shock leaving him speechless for the first time in recent memory.

"Agent Hotchner," she breathed, her voice pieces of shattered glass strewn across the floor, each word sounding as if she were stepping on a shard in her bare feet. Cutting, bleeding. "Please, please tell me you can find him. Please."

Hotch saw the ghosts of a past loss in the eyes of the young woman before him, the woman who had worked tirelessly on Reid's case, finding it difficult to maintain his professional demeanor with this new development, with Reid still lying in the ICU fighting for his life with every fiber of his being. Hotch thought of Haley, and he vowed that this wouldn't end the same way, no matter what the odds told him. It couldn't…

"We will do our very best Dr. Cameron," he said. "I can promise you that."

Foreman and Wilson burst into the office, followed closely by Rossi, who had been speaking with hospital security in order to gain immediate access to the surveillance tapes. House gripped the edges of his desk so hard his knuckles turned white, and he looked Hotch directly in the eye. A terrible, tense silence fell as the two men stared at each other, the members of each of their teams frozen in suspense.

"Find Chase," House said. "Or I'm sending boy genius' case to another doctor."

"House," Foreman said, the only one daring to speak. "That doesn't help. You can't just…"

"Don't you tell me what I can and cannot do," House replied, gaze still locked with Hotch's. "You know better."

"If everyone could give Dr. House and I a moment," Hotch asked, looking around the room at his team. "Morgan, if you could go help JJ with the local police, and Prentiss, please go see if there is any evidence left behind in the parking garage. Dave, please go comb over those security tapes." He turned back to Cameron, his voice softening. "Can you go with Agent Morgan? Princeton P.D. will need a picture."

Cameron nodded as Foreman wrapped an arm around her shoulder, Wilson following closely behind them, but not before shooting a highly concerned glance back at his best friend. A quiet thick as a London fog fell as the door clanged shut, leaving House and Hotch alone.

"I meant what I said," House said, finally breaking Hotch's gaze and looking down at his desk.

"I understand that you're upset…"

"Don't go all condescending, sympathetic FBI agent on me," House snapped. "It won't work."

"Fine," Hotch replied evenly. "But you need to understand something; my team will work tirelessly to find Dr. Chase, but hear me when I tell you that they will not be able to focus on it unless they know Reid is getting treated. You said it yourself; he could die if a cause isn't found soon. I would have to assign another team to the case, but we're the best in this field like your team is the best in yours." He paused, meeting House's gaze again, finding that the diagnostician was listening intently. "It's concrete now that the same person responsible for harming Reid has kidnapped Dr. Chase, and it would be in our best interests to work together."

"I…" House began.

"You do your job," Hotch said, cutting him off. "And we'll do ours."

**CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE**

Chase awoke to darkness. He remembered the parking lot, the blonde volunteer, and a needle in his neck. And then nothing.

His eyes fluttered open, spotting one sole lamp in the corner, which didn't even give off enough light for Chase to make out his surroundings. He was sitting on the floor, and he placed his hand on it, noting that it was hardwood. One of his hands was shackled to the wall, and try as he might, he couldn't slip his hand through. Whatever the woman had drugged him with was still in his system; his heart raced, and his eyelids still felt heavy. Before he could even attempt to process what was happening he heard a lock click, and the door swung open, precise footsteps making their way toward him. He squinted when she flicked on the light, the sudden change from near pitch-black to shockingly light feeling like it was burning his retina.

"Well hello there Dr. Chase," she chirped, frighteningly chipper. "I see you're awake." She twirled a strand of white-blonde hair around her finger, eyelids shaded with a bright purple eye shadow, her long nails hot pink.

"Who are you really?" Chase questioned, wrestling with the handcuff once more. "What the hell do you want?"

"Well, I'm Kelly, Dr. Chase, don't you remember meeting me?" she said, grin reaching from ear to ear. "And if you keep messing with your restraints, I'm afraid I'll have to shackle your other hand to the wall."

"Why did you bring me here?" he whispered, feeling fear swoop through his stomach as she knelt down in front of him, eyeing the knife that was strapped to her belt. He didn't want to show her his panic however, and he met her gaze head on.

"Because you had figured out what was wrong with Dr. Reid of course," she answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You had those lab results that indicated Atropine toxicity, and you'd been putting up poisoning as a diagnosis from the moment Dr. Reid arrived. I couldn't have you messing with my plan, now could I? Luckily I replaced those test results with something plausible but completely off the mark, and the evidence of the real results are destroyed."

Chase watched as she pulled out the knife, heart beating even harder. She brought it up to his face and ran it lightly down his cheek, drawing a few tiny droplets of blood. He flinched back, causing her to laugh.

"Oh don't worry Dr. Chase, I won't be killing you just yet," she said. "That wouldn't be any fun, now would it? And if I get my way and Dr. Reid dies, I might even see fit to send you home in one piece."

"Why are you poisoning Dr. Reid?" Chase asked, noting the slight shake in his voice. "Why are you doing this?"

She stood up again, considering the knife in her hands, seemingly entertained by the way the light made it gleam.

"I knew Dr. Reid at Cal-Tech," she said, the first hint of animosity slipping into her tone., and yet there was the slightest hint of adoration as well. "He was sixteen at the time, and had been there for a few years, I was one of the youngest graduate students in our department, but I'd only been there a year longer than him. But when he walked into that coffee shop, he didn't even recognize me! Of course I looked completely different back then. I was overweight you see, and had terribly unfortunate acne and mousy brown hair. Glasses too. But even still, if he's such a genius, he should have recognized me, especially after he stole all the glory that should have been mine! But I'll tell you the whole story later. I just wanted to check and see if you'd woken up yet…you're such a sleepy head!"

She knelt down next to him again, and ran a hand down the side of his face that was bleeding, taking the droplets onto her fingers and then licking them off, making Chase feel very much as if he might vomit.

"So pretty," she whispered. "Oh yes, we'll be having a good time together Dr. Chase. But for now, I have business to attend to."

Chase watched her go, and she flicked off all the lights, and aside from the waning sunlight coming in through the window, he was left in utter darkness.

A/N: I know, I know, I sort of left you with three cliffhangers this time, but I promise with the next chapter we will return to Reid and Gideon, the confrontation between House and Hotch, to Chase and Kelly, as well as the reactions of the rest of the BAU and Princeton-Plainsboro crew. Thanks again to all of the wonderful people reading, reviewing, or adding this to their alerts/favorites! You guys keep me inspired! :)


	8. Variation 7

Variation on a Theme

A Criminal Minds/House, M.D. Crossover

A/N: Hi all! Thank you SO MUCH again for the wonderful support this story is receiving…it just lights up my day, so thank you to everyone who is reading, reviewing, or adding this to their alerts/favorites. Sorry for the bit of a delay on updating, but hey, this is a really long chapter! I hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think! Also, how AWESOME were the new episodes of Criminal Minds and House last week?

Chapter 8: Variation 7

_"Prison gates won't open up for me/On these hands and knees I'm crawling/Oh, I reach for you/Well I'm terrified of these four walls/These iron bars can't hold my soul in/All I need is you/Come please, I'm calling/And oh, I scream for you/Hurry, I'm falling, I'm falling." ~ Saving Me (Nickleback)_

Silence enveloped Spencer Reid and Jason Gideon, and Reid found himself wishing that he had the mental and physical energy to play chess so they would at least have something to keep their hands busy, something to take away from the dread that had filled them both. He looked over at his half eaten lunch, the mere sight of it making him want to vomit. Reid wanted nothing more than to get up from the bed and help with the case, create a linguistic profile, look at the crime scene, because that seemed like the only logical answer to what was happening around him. He scarcely wanted to imagine what this unknown person was doing to Dr. Chase simply for doing his job, racked his brain for someone, anyone, who would hold a grudge against him. He was terrified that this person would go after the rest of the team just for trying to find her, just for trying to protect him from her...and the fear of dying creeped at the edges of his soul, but just as he had during the anthrax scare, just as he had when Tobias Hankel had held him captive, he tried to push it down, tried to keep thinking. His mind was going a mile a minute when Gideon finally spoke.

"What are you thinking?" he asked softly. "Tell me what you're thinking Spencer."

The almost reverent tone he used, combined with the use of his first name, didn't slip past Reid, but he wasn't sure he was ready for his mentor's apologies just yet, wasn't sure he even had time to listen to them at the moment, much as part of him wanted to. The frightened part of him wanted someone to tell him it was going to be alright, to tell him not to worry, but he pushed it down. _Think Spencer_, he told himself. _Think….grudges_.

"I'm trying to think of anyone who might have a grudge against me," he responded in a rush, looking at Gideon. "Any unsubs. Tobias Hankel had no one. Philip Dowd, maybe he had a woman in his life that we didn't know about? If I could just look at the note, see the surveillance tapes…"

"Slow down," Gideon said. "You're ill, you've got to…"

"I've got to help somehow," Reid interrupted. "Dr. Chase is paying for something I did. This woman is going to kill him, kill the team, kill me, if I don't figure out who it is."

"Reid…"

His paternal tone, the sound of an almost-reprimand in his voice, set Reid off, even as he told himself to calm down.

"Why are you here?" Reid asked without pause. "The truth."

"I told you…"

"Better yet, why did you leave?" Reid questioned, almost shouting now, the words tumbling from his mouth before he had a chance to censor himself. He remembered the long, cold, dark drive to Gideon's cabin, remembered his heart pounding as he found the envelope with his name on it written in Gideon's familiar scrawl, remembered the burst of anger, the tears that he had tried to hold back slipping from his eyes despite himself. Just like his father… "Was it something the team did?" He breathed in, knowing he wasn't being rational. He knew _why _Gideon left, and it only made sense really. But it wasn't _why_ he'd left it was _how_ he'd left. "Was it something _I_ did?" There it was, the fear he'd kept to himself for all these years.

Gideon physically jumped at those last five words.

"No, Reid," he whispered gently, but his words were firm. "It wasn't anything any of you did. There was nothing you could have possibly done to make me leave. I just couldn't stand it anymore, not after Sarah. I didn't know why I was doing the job anymore. I couldn't _do_ the job."

"I know all of that," Reid said, lowering his voice. "I know why you left the job. I want to know why you left the way you did. Why you left the team without so much as a backward glance. I still have that letter you left me. It's in my desk at Quantico."

"I fully admit my mistake in leaving the way I did," Gideon said, hand grasping the edge of Reid's bed now. "Especially with you. But I didn't know if I could explain myself in person…I had to find that belief in happy endings I once had, or I was going to lose my mind."

"Well, did you find it?" Reid asked, wondering if the difficulty he was having getting a deep breath was due to his ailment or the high emotion of the moment.

"I did," Gideon said, looking him directly in the eyes now, determined. "And I'll be damned if you're not going to get one too."

A thousand words sprang to Reid's mind; he even thought of giving Gideon one of his rare embraces. But before he could, he felt chills race up his spine once more, felt his breaths becoming shallower and shallower. His throat had the sensation of closing up.

"Reid?" Gideon asked, looking uncharacteristically frantic. "What's wrong?"

"I can't…" he sucked in a breath. "Trouble breathing…cold…"

The machines let loose the cry of a banshee, ringing in Reid and Gideon's ears.

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Chase estimated that Kelly had been gone about an hour when the door opened once again, casting a sheaf of light that made his eyes burn, as they had adjusted to the darkness. She flicked the overhead light on and Chase cringed even more.

There was blood on her hands.

It wasn't the blood itself that caused Chase to vomit on the hardwood floor…it was the fact that she had likely murdered someone to put it there.

"It's awfully odd that blood makes you sick, Dr. Chase," she said, and for the first time he noticed she carried a bottle of orange juice in her hands. "Aren't you a trained surgeon?"

He didn't respond but kept staring at the blood on her hands, at how it had caked under her fingernails.

"I had to take care of some nasty work while I was away," she said, pulling out an ID of a girl in her twenties with short, dark brown hair. "She was a new pharmaceutical intern who was going in to get her ID picture taken, but I unfortunately had to kill her on her way. Had to hide the body, too. Messy, especially since I have to keep it in the house."

"Why…why?" Chase uttered hardly able to even hear himself.

"So I can pretend to be her, silly," she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I'll have to dye my hair and cut it too, which is unfortunate, but then I can get the ID picture taken, slip into her identity, and have an easy route into the hospital. How else would I keep poisoning Dr. Reid's food? They'll never suspect," she paused, glancing at the name on the ID. "Dear Samantha Rogers, because she's starting after Dr. Reid had already been poisoned."

She moved closer to him and seized his other hand before shackling it behind him, leaving him completely defenseless. He was so shocked that he didn't fight back, and the knife on her belt was another deterrent.

"You underestimate the intelligence of my team, of the BAU," he said, feeling the bile rise up in his throat again.

"Oh, I don't doubt they'll figure it out eventually," she amended, opening the bottle of juice. "But by then it will be too late for poor Dr. Reid. Now drink, you're in sore need of the nutrients."

"No," Chase said, adamant.

"Do it," she hissed, fingering her knife. "Or you'll pay dearly. Perhaps I could even go tend to your pretty Dr. Cameron…"

"Fine," Chase gave in, allowing her to pry open his mouth and slowly pour half the contents of the bottle down his throat, the acidic juice feeling like agony down his raw throat.

"There we go," she cooed, sitting the bottle down next to them. To Chase's utter horror, she spread her legs wide and proceeded to loosely straddle him, making herself comfortable on his lap as she faced him.

He winced, closing his eyes as she stroked his hair, her breath hot on his neck. Her hands ran down his abdomen, coming to rest on his belt.

"You're so beautiful Dr. Chase," she said, running several fingers under the waistband of his khakis, flirting with the elastic band of his boxers.

"Please," Chase whispered, certain he was going to heave again. "Please don't."

"I'm sure I could satisfy you better than Dr. Cameron ever does," she said, moving her hand back up to his face and cupping his cheek.

"Please stop touching me," he whispered, feeling more vulnerable than he ever had.

"Dr. Reid is quite beautiful himself," she said, ignoring him. "I certainly thought so when I first met him. But he wouldn't look at me as anything other than a friend."

"I'm sure he didn't mean any offense," Chase heard himself say, opening his eyes again, feeling his body start to shake.

"Shh, Dr. Chase," she said, still stroking his cheek. "Don't interrupt my story time…"

"If you want to kill Dr. Reid so badly, then why are you doing it like this?" Chase asked.

"Because I want him to die slowly, painfully," she said, her eyes narrowing. "I want to reduce him, the _mighty_ FBI agent, to a helpless pound of flesh in front of all his friends, I want to have total control over how and when it happens, and I want him to know he's going to die long before it comes to pass…and I want to see the light go out of his eyes myself. Stop interrupting me. I'm going to tell you all about my days at Cal-Tech with Dr. Reid…."

_19-year-old Kelly Sinclair sat at a vacated picnic table watching Spencer Reid approach. She twirled a strand of her frizzy auburn hair around her finger in anticipation. Black liquid eyeliner was drawn in thick lines on her lids, heavily shading her light blue eyes. _

_ "Spencer!" she called out, stopping him in his focused trek. He turned in her direction and made his way over. The wind blew some of his hair awry, the hair he had so obviously tried to slick back out of his face, falling into his eyes as it usually did._

_ "Hi Kelly," he said, placing what looked to be a new tan messenger bag on the table. "How are you?"_

_ "Oh you know," she said, eyes roving over his skinny frame. "Jammed as usual. Why are you in such a hurry? And you look fancy too."_

_ Spencer looked down to contemplate his ensemble. He was wearing a pair of his typical khakis, but he also wore a crisp white oxford, a navy suit jacket that was a bit too large, and a dark green tie. _

_ "I've got a meeting with Dr. Saunders in an hour," Spencer replied, finally sitting down as she gestured at him. "I just like to get places early, I guess," he said, pushing his glasses up his nose. _

_ "Well it's right over there, so hang out with me for a while?" she pleaded, batting her eyelashes at him. "I don't really want to look at this project rubric anymore."_

_ "Oh, okay sure," he answered, a small smile lighting up his face. _

_ "What does Dr. Saunders want to meet you about?" she asked, inching her hand ever closer to the tips of his fingers. _

_ "He wants me to present one of my engineering prototypes at a conference," Spencer said, watching her hand looking a smidge uncomfortable but too shy to move his hand away. "I don't really like public speaking though…"_

_ "16 and already taking over the world!" Kelly exclaimed, a hint of bitterness flooding her tone. "Dr. Saunders has never been my biggest fan," she continued. "Doesn't think much of females in the engineering field."_

_ Spencer's eyes widened, and he looked wholly unsure of what to say. Kelly gazed back at him, her fingers touching his now._

_ "I'm sure that isn't true," he said, slowly moving his hand back. "You're a brilliant student, anyone can see that."_

_ "You're so sweet Spencer," she said, a toad-like smile forming on her lips. "But the world isn't always fair. So what are your other doctorates going to be in? Besides the one we so obviously share?"_

_ "Chemistry and Mathematics," he said, looking down to check his watch, which was carefully placed over the sleeve of his jacket._

_ "Ambitious," she said. "And didn't you get some of your undergrad papers published too? That's rarely heard of, especially considering how young you were."_

_ "Um, I did, yeah," he said, unnerved by her overeager attitude. "I've been thinking of trying to be an FBI profiler one day, so I studied psychology and sociology. Well, I'd better go, I need to read over some of my notes before I meet with Dr. Saunders. It was nice seeing you though!"_

_ "Oh okay," Kelly said, pouting "But we should hang out again soon…I had fun at the Poe Halloween thing we went to a few weeks ago. This weekend?"_

_ "The Poe thing is great isn't it?" he asked, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "I can't do anything this weekend though, I'm sorry. I'm going home to Vegas."_

_ "Oooo Vegas?" she asked, waggling her eyebrows at him. "Sounds like a party."_

_ "I'm going home to see my Mom, actually," Spencer said. "She's…sick." His face fell slightly. "And I try to go home and see about her as often as I can."_

_ "What a good son you are!" Kelly chirped. "Well off you go then, see you in class tomorrow!"_

_ He waved at her and then was off, unable to see her following his every step with her eyes until he disappeared from sight._

Kelly had undone the top two buttons of Chase's shirt, her hand resting on his chest. Chase was tensed up, trying to avoid looking at her at all costs.

"Dr. Reid had the audacity to outdo me," she said, an odd mixture of hatred and adoration in her voice. "He just kept doing better, kept winning every award, that arrogant son of a bitch. And I…well, I'll save the rest for later. For now, I do believe I have a phone call to make!"

She finally stood up and Chase shook with momentary relief, having had no idea what she would do to him…still having no idea.

"Don't you think Dr. Reid is one of the most arrogant people you've ever met?" she asked, although it was clear what she wished him to say.

"I…I didn't find that at all," he said, stumbling over his words.

As soon as the words slipped from his mouth he felt the back of her hand smack into his cheek, her two rings hitting his skin feeling like she'd punched him.

"You are an insignificant PAWN, Dr. Chase!" she screamed. "And you would do best to remember it. Now, to my phone call. You'll want to listen to this, I would expect."

CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE

After JJ had finished talking to Chief Winston of the Princeton P.D., she went in search of Dr. Cameron. The chief had been more than willing to allow them to take the lead on the case, but also wanted to assist them with all the manpower he could offer. They now had a picture of Chase and were ready to broadcast it on the evening news as well as in all the papers, and there would be police presence all around the hospital, and one would be available in the unlikely event that the entire BAU had to leave Reid for any given amount of time. JJ spotted a women's locker room just down the hall, and she was sure she'd seen Cameron enter just a few moments ago. She pushed the door open gingerly, her heels echoing throughout what appeared to be an empty room. She listened closely, finally hearing soft sobs coming from the direction of the lockers.

"Dr. Cameron?" she asked softly, turning the corner to see the young woman standing by an open locker that didn't appear to be her own; on the door there was a mirror hung rather haphazardly, on one of the sides there was a small poster of an Australian Rugby team of some sort, and on the other a small photo of Drs. Chase and Cameron standing by the glittering Pacific. Inside there was an extra set of clothes, scrubs, and shoes, with a wallet and black leather jacket piled neatly on top.

"He's so tidy for a man," Cameron whispered, hands clenching the leather jacket and pulling it closer, breathing in the distinct scent of Chase's Ralph Lauren cologne. "I'm always telling him that. Unless he gets caught up in the world cup or something, then he's a slob."

JJ placed a gentle hand on Cameron's shoulder, squeezing ever so lightly, her heart breaking for the woman before her, as it so often did for the families of the victims they tried to rescue. She mused that it really was remarkable that cynicism had yet to sink its claws into her.

"I promise we are going to do everything in our power to find Dr. Chase," JJ assured her, the sincerity in her tone absolute. "And I'm here if you need anyone to talk with."

Cameron finally turned to face her, tears sliding down her face unobstructed, dripping down onto her lab coat.

"I'm so scared for him," she said. "I don't…I don't know how this happened. What…do you know what this person will do to him?"

"I don't know," JJ answered honestly, reaching to carefully grasp Cameron's hand. "And in my experience it's best to not try to picture it, because we don't know what's happening, and we often imagine things to be even worse than they are, and I've seen people's families drive themselves mad with wondering what was happening to their loved ones. We're here to guide you through this."

Cameron nodded, but there was one last question on her lips, the question that JJ herself would have asked had their positions been reversed.

"Do you think…is he dead?"

"We never assume that," JJ answered resolutely. "And in this case, this woman is using your husband as a bargaining tool to get to Reid, so right now, she needs him." Her mind flashed to Reid in the ICU and how he appeared worse with each passing hour, to how he tried to reassure them all he was fine when they knew it was the farthest thing from the truth.

"I don't want House to stop treating Dr. Reid," Cameron said, meeting JJ's eyes. "We…we all need to work through this to save the both of them." She started trembling, pulling Chase's coat to her chest. "We have to cure Dr. Reid, and your team has to find Robert." She looked down again, a stifled sob bursting forth. "I don't know…I don't know what I'll do if I lose him, I don't want him to be in pain…" her words died as her first real sobs flowed out.

JJ wrapped her arms around Cameron, realizing that they were likely around just the same age. "I know," she said, her voice barely audible as she rubbed a hand up and down Cameron's back while she cried into her shoulder. "We all feel the same about Reid."

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Aaron Hotcher knew that if Reid's life didn't likely rest in this incorrigible man's hands, he would lose all of his composure, loosen his tie, and deck the infuriating expression right off his face. He held himself in check however, because it would not do to lose his temper. He often reprimanded Morgan for doing so, and therefore continued to lock eyes with Gregory House, who stared right back.

"Doing my _job_ doesn't have to involve this particular patient," House said, breaking their silent game. "There are plenty of incompetent doctors in this hospital to treat boy genius."

"Reid needs you," Hotch said, voice hard, deadly serious, and absolutely unwavering. "And from what I'm able to ascertain about you, you _need_ to solve the case. And you need my team, because we're the best at what we do, and you know it." Hotch leaned forward and grasped the edges of the glass desk, face moving even closer to House's, who didn't look away, piercing blue meeting deep brown with such intensity that sparks could have been emitting from both men.

When House didn't answer, Hotch pressed on, not allowing an ounce of desperation into his tone even if that's exactly how he felt.

Desperate.

"The lives our two team members are intertwined now," Hotch said. "No matter how much you want to protest. If we don't do this together I can guarantee that it _will_ end badly."

"You got one of my doctors kidnapped!" House spat. "When was the last time one of your agents got kidnapped by some mad person?"

Hotch made to answer, but before he could the door swung open, revealing Emily Prentiss looking more furious than Hotch could ever remember seeing her, a fire blazing in her nearly black eyes.

"Prentiss, the crime scene," Hotch said sternly.

"The CSI team is already there," Emily said, not turning to face him. "They wanted to finish their work before letting us in."

She faced House, who pretended to look nonplussed about her sudden entrance, gazing at her as though she was merely some sort of annoying insect flying around his office.

"You want to know the last time one of our agents got kidnapped, Dr. House?" she questioned, hand resting on her hip. She didn't shout, but she hardly needed to; the barely concealed rage bubbling beneath the surface of her voice got the point across. "It was the very agent you're refusing to treat. That hallucination he had? That was Tobias Hankel, the man with dissociative identity disorder who kidnapped, tortured, and drugged Reid for two days." She stepped forward. "Reid went into cardiac arrest and was absolutely, legally dead for several minutes. He had to watch people die on monitors in front of his eyes and could do nothing to stop it. A gun was pointed at his head. Hankel tried to make him dig his own _grave_. That's what happened the last time one of our agents got kidnapped, Dr. House."

Hotch noticed House's gaze soften ever so slightly, hand grasping his cane so hard his knuckles were turning white.

"How much is saving Dr. Chase worth to you?" Prentiss asked. "I'm betting it's as much as saving Reid is to us. What's your answer?"

House opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the entrance of Foreman, Cameron, and JJ into the conference room, followed by Garcia and Morgan. Cuddy and Rossi, who had been going over the surveillance tapes, were just behind them.

"The gang's all here," House muttered, his voice almost a growl. "Now all we're missing is Wilson and three circus clowns."

"House," Foreman said, stepping forward, a sheet of paper in his hand. "I got the test results." He looked a bit lost, as though telling House the results was the only logical thing to do when his friend and long time colleague had been suddenly and without warning stolen away from them. "It's…mandrake poisoning. And I have to admit…"

"Mandrake poisoning!" House exclaimed, slamming his hand on the desk with a loud thwack. "What is this, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Bullshit? Give me that!" He snatched the paper from Foreman's hands.

His eyes widened as he read them and he looked back up to find everyone staring at him.

"Well what are you waiting for?" he said to Foreman, gesturing at him to get out. "Boy genius is in respiratory distress. Go! And take Cuddy with you." His eyes moved to Cameron, telling her to stay put. Garcia, JJ, and Morgan made to go after them, but Hotch put up a hand to stop them.

"Gideon is with him," Hotch said. "The doctors don't need everyone getting in the way, they've got to do their jobs. If you don't let them, they can't help," he said, his heart clenching even so. He prayed to God, to fate, to whoever would listen, that Reid would be alright.

Foreman and Cuddy dashed out the door, but before anyone else could think, before they could take in another breath, the phone rang.

"Dr. House, don't answer," Hotch said, but he was too late.

"What?" House said as he pushed the speaker phone button. "A little busy here…"

A chill enveloped the room as a sickly sweet female voice floated out, a deadly venom in her voice.

"Ah, Dr. House. Missing something? Put Agent Hotchner on the phone, would you?"


	9. Variation 8

Variation on a Theme

A Criminal Minds/House, M.D. Crossover

A/N: Hello all! Thank you again to everyone who is reading, reviewing, or adding this story to their alerts/favorites! I'm sorry I didn't get around to answering the reviews this time…grad school has been INSANE. But I'm hoping to answer them this time. Thanks for the support! Also, I just wanted to be clear and let everyone breathe easy; I know there seemed to be some worry about Reid and Chase, but I won't be killing either of them. I've read some very well-written death-fics, but I can't bring myself to kill a major character unless it's a villain….I just bring them very close to the edge. Anyhow, enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

Chapter 9: Variation 8

_Breathe life into this feeble heart/Lift this mortal veil of fear/Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears/We'll rise above these earthly cares/Cast your eyes on the ocean/Cast your soul to the sea/When the dark night seems endless/Please remember me." ~ Dante's Prayer (Loreena McKennitt)_

Reid knew he wasn't getting enough oxygen to his brain.

He was getting air, but it wasn't nearly enough to make his mind function properly. He was sitting up, desperate for a deep breath but finding none, grasping his chest even if he knew that wouldn't help in the slightest. He felt Gideon's hand on his back, rubbing up, down. The trouble was, it wasn't just the lack of air, it was the searing pain that cut across his lungs, a pain he had felt once before, during the anthrax episode. There had been damage to his lungs, he knew, and he had a terrible feeling that said damage was making this worse.

"Breathe Reid," Gideon said gently. "Just focus on breathing, the doctors are coming."

"Gideon," Reid said, his ramblings slipping into a delirium. He couldn't focus, couldn't form coherent sentences. "Gideon it doesn't make any sense, none of it makes sense. I have to…I have to help…case."

"Don't talk Spencer, just breathe," Gideon said, but there was sharp fear in his voice, and Reid had never been fond of that particular sound, because when Gideon showed his fear, it meant something was surely very, very wrong.

"Someone…grudge," Reid said, feeling his eyes falling half closed, his brain screaming in protest that it wasn't getting enough air and that Reid could no longer articulate his thought process; his brain was his most powerful weapon and yet at the moment he needed it most it was rendered useless. "Doesn't…need to call my mother…"

Reid heard, rather than saw Drs. Foreman and Cuddy enter, the machine's shrill, piercing screams seemingly growing louder.

"Do we need to intubate?" Cuddy questioned, making for the intubation kit in the supply drawers.

"Dr. Reid," Foreman said. "Can you talk? Can you breathe at all?"

"A…little."

"He wasn't making any sense," Gideon cut in. "He was talking nonsense."

"He isn't getting enough oxygen to his brain," Foreman said, gesturing at Cuddy to grab an oxygen mask. "He doesn't need to be intubated because his airway isn't closed off, but he needs more oxygen. A lot more. His lungs are being forced to work too hard."

Reid's breaths grew ever shallow, and he saw dark spots playing at the edges of his eyes; it was similar to how he'd felt in Tobias Hankel's cabin, and then he was remembering death, and the warmth, and the light he saw…

He wasn't ready to see that light again…

_Spencer knew he was dying._

_ He knew the minute Tobias, consumed by the personality of his father, pushed the chair over, that he would die. He couldn't breathe…his heart felt as if it might explode, and his mind, his mind…he couldn't even think straight. He didn't have time to think, really. He just saw flashes of color, flashes of his life._

_ Had he been able, he would have laughed at how cliché it was._

_ He saw a flash of his mother reading Dickens aloud while he sat next to her on the bed, a flash of his father walking out, a soft goodbye on his lips and a letter for him on the table, a flash of his doctoral graduation from Cal-Tech, a flash of his first day at the BAU…a flash of the team at dinner after a case, laughing uproariously at something ridiculous because that was how they all kept their sanity. He wasn't even sure if what he felt as the life slipped from him, as he convulsed on the floor, was fear, or rather regret at having everything cut so short. He hadn't wanted to die like this, in a cold dark cabin as Tobias' eyes gleamed with the life of his father, handing down what he saw as righteous justice. There was no one here with him, and he thought that even dying might be made better by the presence of a friendly face, sitting with him as he was sent on to whatever happened after death…if anything happened. He longed for his BAU family, if only to tell them goodbye, to tell them all how much they meant to him. He longed to see his mother's face, to hear her voice. "It's okay baby," she would say as she stroked his hair. "It's okay."_

_ He had one last glimpse of the rotting ceiling of Tobias' cabin before, slipping into darkness, and in that moment he felt his surmounting fear wrapped in an odd sort of peace._

_ But it wasn't over._

_ A light was overtaking the darkness, slowly spreading itself out in front of his eyes. It wasn't as if he was walking toward it…more like it was blanketing him instead. This unnerved Spencer perhaps more than dying had._

_ He was a man of science, of logic, of facts, and there was no quantifiable proof that God existed. However, his job had taught him that sometimes things couldn't always be explained, and as many horrors as he had seen, he had also witnessed events that some would deem miracles. He'd seen kidnapped children returned to their parents despite the overwhelming odds; he'd seen people hang on through the most gruesome torture; he'd seen the team stop an unsub mere seconds before another life might have been lost. It was moments like those that kept him going through the horrific crime scenes, the dead bodies, the broken families. They kept him going through the nightmares._

_ Those miracles, if that was what they were, had been what pushed him to start considering a degree in Philosophy, even though nearly everyone he mentioned it to pointed out that it starkly contrasted from his other fields of study. He certainly wasn't putting his facts and his logic aside; they were an inherent part of who he was, and had led to breaks in more cases than he could remember. He was simply supplementing them with a new kind of viewpoint, because as he'd grown, he'd started to understand that the world was not always black and white. Profiling itself wasn't black and white. But as it stood now, it didn't look like he'd be getting that degree, or looking for any of those answers, because if this was what it appeared, he might be getting those answers sooner than he'd intended._

_How was it possible to think so clearly if he was dead? Why was he conscious at all, if that was indeed what this was called? The light kept spreading until the last spots of darkness vanished, growing blindingly bright as it went. Was the moon shining in through the window? But he wasn't in pain anymore, he wasn't cold…in fact he felt pleasantly warm, and he'd been shivering like mad for hours. He'd felt himself dying, had felt himself convulsing and his heart going mad, and he knew he had to be dead. But this…this wasn't what he'd expected. He wasn't sure he'd expected anything at all, except an ending._

_It was incredibly rare that he couldn't find an explanation for something, but as he felt the light recede alarmingly fast, and as he found himself once again staring at the ceiling of Tobias Hankel's cabin, he knew he couldn't explain this. _

"Dr. Reid," Cuddy said, drawing him back to the present moment, placing very gentle hands on the front of his shoulders and pushing his back to the bed. "We need you to lie back."

Foreman removed the nasal cannula and placed the green strap of the oxygen mask around the back of Reid's head, finally placing the mask itself over his mouth and nose.

"Breathe slow and easy for me," Foreman said. "I know that seems wrong, but just trust me."

Reid nodded, following the instructions, breathing in the oxygen as the machine's screams died down, still aware of Gideon's hand on his back. He was as a thirsty man trapped in the desert, and after a few moments, although his breathing still didn't feel normal, the fog surrounding his brain slowly dissipated. He sucked in the air, breathing deeply and resisting the urge to take quick breaths, tempting as it might have been.

"What's causing this?" he heard Gideon ask. "What's happening?"

"Respiratory distress is a symptom of what the test results pointed to," Foreman said, the bewilderment over the cause evident in his voice. "Mandrake poisoning."

Reid started, jerking his head up. He hadn't recovered enough air to speak, but he met Foreman's gaze, shock in his eyes. Sometimes he thought nothing could surprise him anymore, and he was always proven wrong. He knew cases of mandrake poisoning had occurred, but none in recent history in the U.S.

"I didn't even know…" Gideon began, unsure of how to respond. "That happens, still?"

"Rarely," Cuddy answered. "And especially not here. But whoever is doing this found a way to get her hands on some, although the test results only point toward it…it might be something different but with similar symptoms. There's a group of poisonous agents called Tropine Alkaloids that can cause the same issues, and sometimes the treatments can vary."

Reid removed the oxygen mask just long enough to ask the inevitable question. "What's the treatment?" he asked, his voice so soft he could hardly hear it himself.

"Activated Charcoal," Foreman said. "Physostigmine is sometimes used, but we'll need to be absolutely sure because of the side effects it can cause."

Reid nodded, hoping that this was indeed the right answer, but knowing that false/positives occurred more frequently than people supposed. As he finally began catching up on his oxygen levels, even though it was still a laborious process, he found himself wondering what had happened in light of Dr. Chase's kidnapping. He thought of how stricken Dr. Cameron must be, of how terrified Dr. Chase was feeling, and wished desperately that he could do something to help, because he knew all to well what it was like to suddenly be jerked away from the normal and placed in an earthly hell.

"What," he asked, taking a deep breath again. "What's happening for Dr. Chase?"

"The Princeton P.D. are already here," Cuddy informed him, a gleam of melancholy in her eyes as she attempted to hold herself together in the midst of this crisis. "And your team is talking to Dr. House and Dr. Cameron. We'll be enacting extreme security measures around the hospital, doing everything we can to protect you and find Dr. Chase."

Reid was still trying to think of someone, anyone who would hold this type of grudge against him, but knew it would be impossible to truly speculate until he had some information, until he was permitted to look at the note, or see the surveillance tapes, or talk to the team.

"Are you in pain Dr. Reid?" Foreman suddenly asked, squinting slightly.

Reid nodded, not possessing the energy to speak again.

"Your lungs might have been weakened a bit from your run in with anthrax," Foreman suggested. "It's likely why your breathing problems are worse than they might have been, and your lungs are irritated and tired. You inhaled the anthrax that day, and that is infinitely more fatal than just absorbing it through the skin. The damage wasn't extensive enough to cause problems in everyday life, but the toxin in your system is bothering old wounds, so to speak."

"Will he need a respirator?" Gideon asked, that same fearful tone striking him again.

"Not yet," Foreman said, and Reid could tell he was trying to avoid looking grim. "But if this keeps up, he will. But for now I'm going to check with House on using something called humidified high flow nasal airway respiratory support, which can be used with the cannula so you don't have to wear the mask all the time," he said, softening his words a bit, realizing that although he was being honest, he was also being harsh. "I'm going to the pharmacy right now to get the charcoal." He looked to Cuddy, whose pager had started going off, no doubt someone needing to speak with her about Dr. Chase's kidnapping.

"It's my office calling, the police need to meet with me urgently," she said, looking frazzled. "But I'll get Dr. Wilson to come and sit with you for a few minutes to make sure you stay stable, while Dr. Foreman goes to the pharmacy."

Reid nodded and tried to smile at them in thanks, while Gideon verbally thanked them. As the two doctors left, Dr. Cuddy's heels echoing down the hall, Reid noticed that his mentor's face had become drawn. He lifted the mask slightly, feeling the need to reassure him…and also to reassure himself.

"I'm sure I'll be fine, Gideon," he said. "This could be the answer."

"I know," Gideon said, folding his hands in his lap and looking down at them. "But this woman is after you and we have to be on the highest alert. You know as well as I do that these people have their ways, which is why one of us will always be present in this room," he paused, considering his next words carefully. "I think you should think about Hotch's advice to take the stronger pain medication," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "There's no need to make this worse on yourself."

"I'll think about it," Reid replied, his eyes starting to flutter closed, his mind still whirring even as exhaustion wrapped him in its cocoon.

* * *

><p>A wall of concrete silence built itself around House's office, as everyone stared at the phone for a solid thirty seconds.<p>

That is, until House saw fit to make his opinion known.

"Am I _missing_ something?" House seethed, even as Hotch gestured at him to cease and desist.

"Dr. House…"

"Yeah I'm _missing_ something you sick witch! You'll bring him back or you can find out what an angry cripple with a cane looks like!"

"Dr. House." Hotch's voice was firm, even as his heart started to race. Most unsubs did not take well to this sort of confrontation, and he didn't want to endanger Dr. Chase, or Reid, any further.

"I'm sure you'd be simply terrifying," Kelly finally said, voice disturbingly sweet even though was laced with sarcasm. "But your loyal little dog here will pay if you keep shouting at me. You'd best listen and hand the conversation over to Agent Hotchner."

House paused, then moved aside, muttering profanities under his breath, to let Hotch closer to the desk, the phone still on speaker.

"This is Aaron Hotchner."

"Well Agent Hotchner, you should really get a handle on your investigation, don't you think?" Kelly questioned, and Hotch was certain he'd never heard an unsub sound so incredibly upbeat in all his years, and he was sure that it could mean only the highest level of mental instability. It seemed that if even the smallest thing set her off, tragedy would instantly follow. "I'll bet you're furious that I'm going to succeed in getting rid of your precious Dr. Reid, aren't you? Is sweet little Dr. Cameron there?"

Cameron opened her mouth and stepped forward, but JJ put a hand on her shoulder, shaking her head.

"Dr. Cameron is worried for her husband," Hotch replied, keeping his tone even, calm, controlled, refusing to give in to the comment about Reid. He remembered what letting his temper to overtake him had done when he had gone with Reid to interview Chester Hardwick, remembered Reid's quick thinking as he kept Hardwick distracted by talking for thirteen minutes straight, remembered Reid's words when he'd thanked him: _I find I do some of my best work under intense terror_. "As is everyone here at Princeton-Plainsboro."

"You received my note?" Kelly asked.

"We did," Hotch said, his eyes roving around as he looked at his team; at Garcia, who was practically leaning on Morgan; at Prentiss, whose eyes were locked on the phone, fingernails digging into her palms; at Rossi, who was looking at him; at JJ, who was doing her best to comfort Dr. Cameron, her blue eyes wide with worry, her professional demeanor cracking around the edges.

"Then you know my terms," Kelly said, as though they were choosing between lattes in a Starbucks. "Stop treating Dr. Reid, and I'll return Dr. Chase to you. An exchange, if you will."

"You know we can't do that," Hotch said diplomatically, eyes flickering up to House, who this time didn't look back, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. "Have you harmed Dr. Chase?"

"You _won't_ do it, you mean," she said, the first hint of real animosity slipping into her tone. "And only a little, but I'll certainly go further if you don't meet my terms."

Dr. Cameron gasped, trying to stifle it with her hand, but it did not go unheard by Kelly, a sadistic chuckle entering her voice.

"Oh don't fret Dr. Cameron," she said. "I won't be killing him just yet. He's my leverage, after all. A little pain is a good for a man. Psychological pain, physical pain."

House opened his mouth again but was cut off by Rossi, who shot him a serious look that said, 'keep your mouth shut, or you are putting your employee's life at risk.' House closed his mouth again, concerned eyes landing on Cameron before darting to the hallway, likely waiting for a report from Dr. Foreman.

"What do wish to accomplish?" Hotch asked.

"I want Dr. Reid _dead_," she said, the hostility now very apparent in her tone. "Or I'll be just as pleased to keep him with me, alive, at least until I've finished with him. If he behaved perhaps I'd see fit to keep him alive longer, but you would _never_ see him again. But he'd be alive, and that always counts for something, doesn't it?" She laughed softly, as though she was imagining that very scenario in her head, and Hotch shuddered with the possibility.

"Can you tell us why you're upset with Dr. Reid?" Hotch asked, daring to press her in the hopes of gleaning even the smallest bit of information.

"I really don't think you deserve that," Kelly said, the sickly sweetness returning to her tone. "I won't help you profile me, Agent Hotchner. Now I do believe I'll have to be going…I've got things to accomplish, you see. Do tell Dr. Reid hello for me."

With that, the line went dead, sounding particularly ominous in light of the situation.

"I recognize that voice," Cameron said suddenly. "I remember her."

"It can be difficult to identify voices over the phone if you don't know them well," Morgan said. "What do you recognize?"

"That overly sweet, chipper tone she used," Cameron continued, sounding more confident with each word. "At first I just thought she was enthusiastic, but now…that's definitely her. I just know it."

"Who was she?" Emily asked, dark eyes full of intensity as she stepped closer to Cameron. "Where did you meet her?"

"She said she was a medical student who was doing volunteer hours here, she was helping with the food trays in the ICU…her name was Kelly Lewis."

Hotch watched as House's face lit up with an idea, his eyes widening slightly as they stared off into the distance.

"What is it, Dr. House?" Rossi asked.

"The food," he said. "She was sneaking in here to poison his food. No one would have even thought twice at seeing someone in hospital clothing pushing a food cart."

His cell phone went off, blasting the Hanson song "Mmmmbop."

"What?" he asked sharply, as everyone in the room was staring at him. "It's my ringtone for the team." His eyes ready quickly over the text message. "Boy genius' breathing is stable, for now," He said, but his expression betrayed his knowledge that whatever was plaguing Reid was growing more dangerous by the hour. "Foreman is going to start treatment now."

The collective relief of the BAU was felt by everyone in the room, even as Hotch turned back to Cameron to question her further.

"What did she look like Dr. Cameron?" Hotch asked, feeling his blood starting to race; they finally had something to go on.

"She was about my height," Cameron said. "Blonde hair like Ms. Garcia's…she wore incredibly bright eye shadow. She was thin."

"Garcia, run the name Kelly Lewis through the databases and see what you get. I know it will likely be a lot of hits, but we've got to start somewhere," Hotch instructed. "And when Reid is able, we need to get him to look at those surveillance tapes."

* * *

><p>"They just won't listen to me," Kelly said, her tone disturbingly calm as she put the phone back in its cradle. She turned to look at him, and Chase felt hot, sickening terror flood his entire being. Her eyes were wild, and his mind reeled with the possibilities of what torture she would bestow on him. He fought against his bonds.<p>

"Oh don't be ridiculous Dr. Chase," she said, turning her knife over in her hands, a sinister light glinting off its edge. "Those are wrought iron manacles. Not even a strong man like you can escape them. And I'm afraid you will have to pay for your friends' indiscretion. They won't let one little FBI agent die just to save you…they must not care about you very much," she said, lifting a piece of his hair with the tip of the knife. "I'll bet your pretty wife is out screwing another man already, probably that boss of yours. I heard from some people around the hospital that she used to have it pretty bad for him, and that you were just…sloppy seconds."

"You can't ask anyone to make a decision like that," Chase spat, daring to argue with her and ignoring the comment about House and Allison, knowing she was just trying to toy with his insecurities. "The BAU will find me, and my team will save Dr. Reid. You can bet on that."

"Can I now?" she questioned, her manic cheerfulness nowhere in sight, her eyes slits of malice. "Oh, you will be such fun to break. Not quite as fun as Dr. Reid, but you'll entertain me until his time comes."

Before he even knew what was happening she'd seized him by the hair so hard that his head knocked into the wall, the metallic smell of blood piercing the air and the cold edge of her knife resting on his throat. Stars danced in front of his eyes as his head throbbed, the blood running in sticky rivers through his hair and onto the collar of his lab coat.

"I could rip you to pieces right now," she whispered. "But that wouldn't be any fun. Slow is best, slow is how I'll get them to do my bidding. Slow is how Dr. Reid will meet his maker, if he refuses to stay with me. You're nothing but a pawn in my game, Dr. Chase, although you are certainly a fine one to look upon. I'll do my best to not damage the pretty face of yours any further. That nasty bruise isn't permanent."

Chase bit his lip in a fruitless attempt stifle the cry of pain that erupted from his mouth as she dragged the tip of the knife hard, deep, and slow from shoulder to shoulder across his collarbone area.

"Hurts, doesn't it Dr. Chase?" she cooed, watching as crimson further stained his crisp white lab coat. "Not life threatening though, but you know that. You should prepare yourself to embrace pain, because there's going to be a lot of it in your future."

Chase watched as she sat down across from him, his head throbbing with pain, the knife wound burning like hell. He didn't want to be here, he wanted someone, anyone, to come and find him. Hearing House's reaction on the phone had buoyed him slightly, had almost made him laugh at his boss' complete lack of tact, and it was clear that Agent Hotchner meant business, but how would they find him? He didn't have a clue where he was. He kept his hopes for himself with the BAU, and his hopes for Dr. Reid with House, Allison, and Foreman; his own fate was intertwined with Dr. Reid's, that much was clear.

"I think we're due for one more short story time before I have to go again," Kelly said. "And because you were so rude before, I'm afraid you won't be getting any dinner tonight. Now, where did I leave off? Oh yes, Dr. Reid's incessant need to impress everyone…"

_Kelly caught up with Spencer as she left the Engineering colloquium. She had to walk briskly to catch up with his long-legged stride, as he'd gotten a head start. He'd been surrounded by professors and a few fellow students during the reception, but after about twenty minutes had politely excused himself from the room._

_ "That was a great presentation," she said as she walked up next to him. "You're turning into a real star."_

_ She didn't mention that she had been the star before he'd come along, the jealously pumping through her veins growing toxic._

_ "I don't know about that," he said shyly, turning to look at her in greeting. "But I'm glad you liked the presentation. I'm hoping my public speaking skills are getting better."_

_ "They are!" Kelly chirped. "I couldn't even tell if you were nervous."_

_ "Good to hear," Spencer answered, chuckling a bit. "So how's your project going for Dixon's class? I'm finding it quite time-consuming."_

_ "Haven't had time to get started on that just yet," Kelly answered. "Family troubles, and it's getting majorly in the way of my schoolwork, grades slipping and all that."_

_ "Oh," he said, meeting her piercing gaze with sympathetic wide brown eyes. "I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure you can get everything back up, though. Your parents live on the east coast, right?"_

_ "Trenton, New Jersey," she responded, an angry spark igniting in her eyes. "I'm flying back over there in two weeks during the three-day-weekend. Like I even want to go."_

_ "Family can be hard sometimes," Spencer said, his eyes downcast as he adjusted his bag strap on the shoulder of his navy cardigan. "But sometimes we have to fight to keep them together."_

_ "What about your parents?" Kelly asked, slipping her arm around the crook of Spencer's elbow. He instantly stiffened, but didn't pull away, likely because he was looking for a way out which wouldn't appear overly rude._

_ "Oh, you know," he said, avoiding her gaze now both because it made him uncomfortable and because he didn't want her to read the half-truths in his expression. "My Dad is a lawyer. My Mom is a Literature Professor, mostly 15__th__ century England, but sometimes she teaches other periods. She's brilliant, and I swear she must have read every book under the sun."_

_ "Like mother, like son," Kelly said, stepping closer to him even as he stepped away. "Sounds like you're close."_

_ "We are," he said, quietly slipping his arm from her grasp as they reached the door of his on-campus apartment building. "Well, this is me. I'll see you in class tomorrow?"_

_ "You will indeed," Kelly said, a hint of irritation slipping into her tone. "You'd better get inside and start working on your next __**brilliant**__ project." She touched his cheek briefly before walking away, leaving a befuddled genius behind her._

Kelly continued twirling the knife in her hands, causing Chase's anxiety to bubble up in his stomach. He tried to think about anything that would block out the pain he was in, but with her sitting there contemplating him as though she was simply planning what to do next, made this impossible.

"He acted so utterly clueless about all of it," she said, immensely angry now. "He acted as if he didn't know how much the professors loved him, acted as if he deserved everything they handed him, acted as if he didn't know that I was attracted to him."

"Dr. Reid isn't really like…" Chase began, but was abruptly cut off.

"Quiet!" she screamed, pushing her foot up against the wound on his chest with vigor and he cried out in pain. "There will be no opinions from _you_, Dr. Chase. I'm afraid I must go now, much to plan you know," she said, regaining her calm as quickly as she'd lost it. "I'm sure your brilliant Dr. House will have figured out I've been poisoning the food, so I'll have to get work on my new look. The next step is the pharmacy, you see. They'll never figure it out. Be good."

With that she was gone, leaving Chase alone once again in the darkness.


	10. Variation 9

Variation on a Theme

A Criminal Minds/House, M.D. Crossover

A/N: Hi all! Thank you so again for the support on the story! All the readers, reviewers, and people adding this to their alerts/favorites just really makes my day. Anyhow, I do hope you like this chapter…it's a long one! Please let know what you think!

Chapter 10: Variation 9

_"But welcome fortitude, and patient cheer/And frequent sights of what is to be home!/Such sights, or worse, as are before me here/Not without we suffer and we mourn." ~ William Wordsworth (Elegiac Stanzas)_

Reid's eyes felt heavy as he watched Garcia slide the DVD copy she'd made of the surveillance tapes into the disk drive of her laptop. House had approved the oxygen treatment so that the nasal cannula had once again replaced the mask in order that Reid might talk freely, but even after sleeping for an hour he hardly had the energy.

"We can do this later Reid," Hotch said, sensing his exhaustion. "I know you're tired."

"No we can't, Hotch," Reid protested as he looked up at his boss, knowing that he sounded testy. "Dr. Chase doesn't have that kind of time. I'm fine."

Hotch raised his eyebrows but didn't argue, focusing on Reid for several seconds before turning to the computer as the video lit up the screen. The room suddenly felt very small to Reid; Hotch and Morgan stood on one side, JJ, Garcia, and Prentiss on the other, while Gideon and Rossi stood at the foot of the bed. He didn't want them to leave, but a part of him also felt claustrophobic, and an anxiety he couldn't explain had taken root in his stomach, prickling sharply at the sides and making him feel unceasingly nauseated. Perhaps it was because he'd so recently found out that someone was out to murder him, but though that certainly was a cause to be upset, he felt as if whatever toxin was raging through his body was the root of the problem. He felt utterly restless, utterly unlike himself.

"The quality isn't wonderful and I zoomed in as far as I could without distorting the image more than it already was," Garcia said, half apologizing for a system she had no control over. "It's grainy, but their system, I swear…"

Reid found Garcia's rambling oddly comforting, and he felt his anxiety ebb ever so slightly.

"It's okay, Garcia," he said, meeting her eyes for a moment before fixing his gaze on the screen. "I know you did the best you could."

She hit the play button, and Reid squinted, putting his face so close to the screen that his nose was almost touching it, his vision still off and his head throbbing. He watched as Dr. Chase and a girl with bright blonde hair walked into the garage, Dr. Chase looking around for something that clearly wasn't there, while the girl snuck up behind him and inserted a needle into his neck. She turned, and despite the fact that the quality was shoddy at best, he recognized the face instantly.

"That's Kelly from Cup of Java in Quantico!" he exclaimed, watching as Dr. Chase's pager shattered on the ground and she dragged him into the backseat. His eyes widened in shock. "But why would she…" he trailed off as Garcia clicked off the video, astounded at what he had just witnessed.

"Dr. Cameron said the girl's name was Kelly Lewis," Morgan said. "Does that sound familiar?"

"I just knew her name was Kelly," Reid replied, feeling his heart start pounding. "She's been working at that coffee shop I always go to near the office for a few months now. I…she…" he stopped mid-sentence, staring off into the distance for a moment.

"Reid?" Morgan questioned. "You okay kid?"

"She was poisoning my coffee," Reid said softly, eyes still fixed on the wall, looking very much as though he was lost in his own world. "But if she wanted to kill me why would she start poisoning me just a couple of weeks ago rather than right away? Why would she want to kill me in the first place? This doesn't make any sense."

"Slow down, Spence," JJ said, looking unnerved at Reid's uncharacteristic agitation. "We don't always know why these people latch onto their victims at first…"

"But it doesn't make any sense!" Reid said, his voice a few octaves higher than normal. "I'd never seen her before in my life until she started working at that coffee shop six months ago. There has to be a reason. She followed me across state lines!"

"Kiddo," Rossi said, tilting his head as he looked at Reid. "She might have just fixated on you for a reason we won't know until we catch her."

Reid shook his head vigorously, running his fingers through his hair.

"All of us know how rare it is for an unsub to follow their target like this unless there is a personal reason behind it," Reid argued, grasping onto a shred of calm and lowering his voice. "You said it yourself, Hotch. She wants me dead, or to keep me with her, and she wouldn't explain why. I just don't know where I could have possibly met her before, I don't recognize her." He racked his brain, but no memory emerged.

"Have you known anyone else named Kelly?" Hotch asked, contemplating his youngest agent.

"I…" Reid said, his mind spinning in circles, a face popping into his head. "Oh! I knew a Kelly Sinclair at Cal-Tech, but this Kelly doesn't look _anything_ like her. Different hair, different eyes, different build. I would have recognized her otherwise."

"Looks like we might have a potential disguise artist on our hands," Morgan said, shaking his head in frustration. "That just makes this more difficult. She could be in the next room over and we might not have a clue."

"We don't know if it's her," Reid protested. "I can't think of any reason why she would try and kill me…"

"How well did you know her?" Prentiss asked, catching eyes with Morgan for a moment. "What was she like?"

Reid pondered for a moment, his memory flashing back to his days at Cal-Tech, feeling that an age had passed since then.

"She was in the Engineering doctoral program with me," Reid said, almost unable to believe this was happening. "She was very bright, and we were friendly with each other. She came with me to a Poe Halloween ghost walk once. She got a little odd as time passed though. " He remembered her touching her fingers to his, slipping her arm through his…the time he'd had to step away from an attempted kiss, desperately trying to be polite. He blushed from embarrassment at the awkward memory.

"Odd?" Morgan questioned, instantly picking up on Reid's demeanor. "Spit it out, kid."

"I didn't put it together until right before she left," Reid said, almost mumbling now. "But I think she wanted to be more than friends with me."

"What happened to her, Reid?" Prentiss asked, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed, looking as if she wanted to will information directly from his brain.

"She dropped out of Cal-Tech about a year and half after I met her, when she was 19," he responded. "Her parents died a few months before. I don't know what happened to her after that." He stopped, suddenly remembering something, a gleam of knowledge in his eyes as the cogs of his brain worked behind them.

"Reid?" Hotch pressed, recognizing the familiar action.

"Her parents," Reid said, turning to look at his long-time boss. "Her parents were from Trenton, New Jersey. It's twenty minutes away from here."

"Wait a minute," Morgan said, drawing out his words. "She didn't change her first name, only her last. Why would she do that? It seems like _wants_ us to know who she is, and I've got a bad feeling about it. She's giving us clues in order to maintain control over the entire situation. And she could also be hiding in plain sight. She must be a master at changing her appearance if Reid didn't recognize her."

"What else can you remember about her?" Gideon asked, surprising everyone by jumping into the conversation, apparently unable to help himself; he may have quit profiling, but he would never stop being a profiler. "Was she ever hostile?"

Reid shook his head. "No, if anything she was _overly_ sweet," he said. "She was always telling me how brilliant I was." He stopped, pondering for a moment.

"She dropped out and you were successful," Prentiss said. "It sounds like she had a problem with jealous tendencies, but it would have been harder for you to detect it at sixteen or seventeen when she soaked it in sweetness. And now the jealousy has reached maximum levels. We also might be looking at some kind of personality disorder, which heightens everything."

"She made me uncomfortable sometimes," Reid admitted. "And I sensed that there might have been something off, but I generally let it go because she seemed so lonely. I didn't have an inkling she would turn violent, or go to these kinds of lengths…" he spoke quickly, his words going into an almost ramble.

"Don't start doubting your profiling skills Reid," Hotch reprimanded gently. "There was no way you could have predicted something like this."

But before they could continue building a possible profile, the door slid open and revealed Dr. Cameron, who was carrying a glass of an extremely unpleasant looking liquid.

"You're awake," she said. "Good. I'm sorry this medicine is so unpleasant, but it's the best course of action if you do have Mandrake poisoning."

Reid gazed at her, surprised that she was still here at all. All traces of her eye makeup were gone, and the edges of her eyes were rimmed with red. She'd clearly tried to make herself look composed, however: her hair was tied neatly back into a ponytail at the base of her neck, her lab coat free of any wrinkles.

"Dr. Cameron," Reid said softly, and he felt everyone's eyes on him. "You really don't have…"

"I want to be here," she said, sitting the glass of black liquid in front of him. "I think it's imperative that we all work together. And if I'm here, I'll know faster if something happens with Robert." Her voice contained an almost unbearable sadness, shaking slightly as she said her husband's name, and Reid felt as if she might still be a smidge in shock.

Reid offered her a small smile, which she returned. He looked disdainfully at the concoction in front of him, wrinkling his nose in disgust. He was mildly worried that he might vomit the entire thing back up, and he had no desire to throw up in front of this many people, much as he loved all of them. Hotch met Reid's eyes for a split second and, sensing his anxiety, began issuing instructions.

"Rossi, Morgan, I want you to come with me to brief the Princeton P.D.," he said, glancing over at his two team members. "JJ, I need you to call the press and make sure that surveillance image is issued to the TV stations and newspapers. Garcia, I want you to run Kelly Sinclair in the databases. Check it against Cal-Tech, Trenton, and anything else Reid can give you."

"You got it, boss man," Garcia responded.

"Prentiss," he continued. "I want you to stay here with Reid and make sure no unauthorized personnel get access to this room."

"Yes sir," she said, her expression indicating that she would end the existence of anyone who dared to touch Reid on her watch.

Hotch, Rossi, and Morgan bid Reid goodbye, promising to be back soon, and upon insistence from Reid that he at least go take a nap, Gideon left as well, leaving Reid, Prentiss, Garcia, JJ, and Dr. Cameron.

"This isn't going to be pleasant, is it?" Reid asked, looking up at Cameron, whose expression was sympathetic.

"No," she said. "But I thought we might try it this way first, since the other way is inserting a tube up your nose, and I think you have enough of those right now."

"Good plan," Reid said, starting to reach for the glass.

"Before you take that," Cameron said, and Reid pulled his hand back. "Dr. Cuddy told House that she thinks it a wise decision for you to choose a medical proxy, someone to make decisions for you…"

"In case I can't make them for myself," Reid finished for her. She had an unyielding terror in her eyes that she couldn't restrain, and he wanted nothing more than to help her, to figure out why his world had suddenly been turned upside down, Dr. Chase's fate intertwined tightly with his own.

"You know anyone on the team would do it for you in a heartbeat, sweet cheeks," Garcia said, although she sounded upset at the idea that the illness could progress that far.

He nodded, the idea of losing the capability to make his own decisions making his breath hitch in his throat. But knowing the decision was inevitable, he mused for a few moments; he trusted all his friends implicitly, which made the selection more difficult. After a minute or so however, he found himself looking at JJ, remembering how she'd been by his side, along with Morgan, during the Dilaudid withdrawal. He'd felt the pressure from all sides to take narcotics for his pain, but he felt that JJ, if pressed, would not allow them to administer them simply because she knew how ardently he would stand against it, he knew that if his life rested in her hands, she could make the right decisions, both practical and emotional. She looked back at him, seemingly knowing that he was asking her even if he didn't speak.

"JJ, would you mind?" he asked, slightly sheepish. "I know it's a lot of responsibility."

"It's not even a question," JJ responded, smiling warmly at him. "Of course I will. You and Garcia were willing to accept responsibility for Henry if anything ever happened to Will and me, it's only right that I return the favor."

"As soon as we're done here I'll take you to Dr. Cuddy's office to sign the paper work." She looked back at Reid. "Bottoms up, I'm afraid, Dr. Reid."

Reid picked up the glass, trying not to gag at the mere sight of the medicine. He steeled himself and began drinking, chugging it down as quickly as he could manage. He placed the glass back on table with an unsteady hand and it rolled off, toppling to the ground. A raspy cough spurted forth, and he felt the urge to vomit so intensely that he put his hand over his mouth and closed his eyes, willing the bile back down. He watched Prentiss grab the pan from the counter and place it under his chin, finding himself unceasingly glad that the other men had left the room; there was something about throwing up in front of women that was slightly less humiliating. He dry-heaved a few times, but after a few moments, although his stomach still felt queasy, he sat back up, able to stop himself from losing the medication.

"That was close," he said, reaching for the glass of water on his table. "That was…foul."

"Not the easiest medicine going down," Dr. Cameron agreed. "But I thought you might not want a tube up your nose. Or in your stomach, if you could help it." She stopped, hesitating for a moment as if trying to decide upon her next words.

"What is it, Dr. Cameron?" Prentiss asked, reaching out a hand to rest on the young woman's shoulder.

"I was just…" she stumbled over her words, desperately trying to keep her composure. "Are there any leads? Anything at all?"

"We found out that that unsub might be an acquaintance of mine from Cal-Tech who changed her appearance," Reid said. "Garcia is preparing to look her up in our federal databases, part of the team is going down to brief the Princeton P.D., and JJ is going to talk to the press."

"It will be all over the evening news and morning papers," JJ assured her. "That woman's face will be everywhere."

Cameron nodded, but there was a question in her eyes. "But if she changes her appearance, then how will anyone know what she really looks like?"

"It's a start," Reid said, his stomach fighting against the vile liquid he'd just forced down. "And a start is always something in profiling. Our teams are in this together, Dr. Cameron."

She nodded, but in that moment, for the first time in all his years at the BAU, Reid felt that they might be in over their heads.

He prayed he was wrong.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Reid watched as Garcia practically slammed her fingers on the keys of her laptop (something she never did, and would lecture anyone she caught doing it) and muttered to herself at the little station she'd set up in the corner of his room in the ICU. The nurses had been disgruntled at first, but Garcia had predictably charmed them, and they had taken to Reid. The trio had been watching the news, but after seeing Kelly's face plastered on every screen (JJ had done her job well, as always) Reid had decided to flip it off. He was itching to do something, anything, to work the case, but Hotch had ordered him to rest while he, Prentiss, Morgan, and Rossi went to Princeton P.D. headquarters. Gideon, who knew of his protégé's susceptibility to the cold, had gone out looking for socks, despite Reid's protests that he was fine.<p>

"She just…she just disappeared!" Garcia exclaimed, voice going up an octave with every word. "Her parents died in a car crash and six months later she dropped out of Cal-Tech, and then _nothing_."

"She was clearly smart and intuitive enough not to leave a paper trail," JJ responded. "Spence said she's incredibly clever, and she's likely computer savvy too." The copies of the medical proxy forms Dr. Cuddy had brought over this morning were resting in her lap, one for her, one for Reid.

"It is almost impossible not to leave a paper trail," Garcia argued. "Why do you fail me, information super-highway? Lewis was her mother's maiden name, but there's nothing there either, not on Kelly herself, except for the employment at the coffee shop. There's only records up until she left Cal-Tech at twenty, and those years included a hell of a lot of family therapy sessions."

"Foyet essentially made his old self disappear until we deciphered his aliases," Reid pointed out, but he wasn't fully focused. Seeing the papers in JJ's hands with their two signatures looking so incredibly final, caused a tense feeling of foreboding, and he knew it was time to call his mother. He worried that the news that he was seriously ill, and that an old Cal-Tech classmate was out to murder him, would send her spiraling, although he was almost positive he would leave the murder bit out.

"She had to have cleared her name out of the databases somehow," Garcia said, frustration seeping into her voice. "I _will_ find her, so help me God."

"Garcia," Reid tried to say. "It's…"

"It's NOT okay!" Garcia interrupted. "I will not have this sicko woman doing anything else to you, Spencer Reid!"

Her use of his full name nipped any argument he might have made in the bud, and at the look on his face she softened a little and patted his hand, JJ looking at them with a slightly amused, slightly distressed expression.

"There have been too many people who have tried to get at us," Garcia whispered. "And especially at you. I just…"

"I know," Reid said, smiling in the hopes that it would reassure her. "I'll be fine, Garcia. I promise."

Garcia nodded, even though both of them knew that his words were a potential lie. JJ's eyes flashed to the rash on Reid's neck as they spoke; it had grown angrier as the hours had passed, despite the topical cream Dr. Cameron had brought by. Reid's eyes fell on his breakfast tray which he had hardly touched; this was both because he knew that was how Kelly had initially poisoned him after he'd entered the hospital, and because he had little to no appetite. He thought again of his mother, steeling himself.

"What's up Spence?" JJ asked, noticing the thoughts clouding his brown eyes.

"I was just thinking," Reid said, looking up at his friends, "that I should probably call my mother. I was hoping I'd be better already so I wouldn't have to worry her, but if…" he swallowed, losing control of his voice a bit. "I want to talk to her, in case I get worse and I don't have the ability."

"Sweet cheeks," Garcia tried to say, but she couldn't seem to finish her thought. Reid knew she was thinking of the day he'd contracted anthrax, and the message he'd had her record for his mother because he couldn't call her without alerting her hospital to the national crisis. He remembered how he could barely get his words out then, how his throat had practically stuck together, and he didn't know how he would fare this time, didn't know what he would say…he supposed he would just have to play it by ear, depending on the state of his mother's psyche. He sincerely hoped she was having one of her good days, one of the days where the mere sound of her voice could soothe any trouble bearing down on his soul. _"You're such a brave man, Spencer_," she might say, _or "I love you, baby. Don't forget that." _Although if she were having a bad day she might say something like _"I found more hidden government bugs in my room, Spencer! I told you they were watching me!"_

"Do you want us to give you a minute?" JJ asked softly.

"I…no, it's okay," Reid said, suddenly not wanting to be alone.

JJ and Garcia acquiesced, both moving to Garcia's little corner in order to give him some space. Reid picked up the hospital phone in his uncertain hands, very much appreciating his friends' considerate natures. He dialed the number he'd memorized at the age of eighteen, pressing the receiver to his ear, his heart thumping in his chest. He would admit to himself that he was scared that he wouldn't make it out of this predicament alive, but more than that, he worried about his mother's reaction…if she lost him, he wasn't sure she would hold on to her sanity, to any of the threads still tying her to reality.

_Stay calm, Spencer. Stay calm for Mom's sake._

The ringing of the phone blared in his ears, sounding louder than normal to his sharply aching head. A nurse picked up on the first ring.

"Bennington Sanitarium, this is Nurse Angela, how may I help you?"

"Hi, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. I was wondering if I might be connected to Diana Reid's room?"

"Oh, Dr. Reid!" she said, her tone very friendly. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," he responded, not wanting to impart the news he was sick to anyone but his mother. "And you?"

"I'm well," Angela responded, a trace of apprehension entering her tone. "But I'm afraid Diana had a bit of an episode earlier, and she's asleep right now. I can see if her doctor will clear me to wake her up."

"No," Reid said quickly, his stomach sinking, twisting, writhing. "I know she needs her rest. Is she alright?"

Angela hesitated. "She just got a little upset; she said she hadn't received a letter from you in a few days, and you normally write her nearly every day. She was already agitated today, and her routine…"

Reid felt tears sting his eyes, willing himself to not let them fall, feeling JJ and Garcia's eyes on him. He cleared his throat.

"A case got out of hand," he replied, keeping his voice neutral. "Could you tell her I called?"

"Of course, Dr. Reid," Angela said, sounding heartily sympathetic. "And it isn't your fault. She'll be fine, they just had to put her out for a while. She's actually been doing quite well lately."

"Thank you," Reid managed to say. "I'll call back in a few hours and see how she is."

With that he hung up, putting his head in his hands for a moment before looking back up at his friends. Before he had a chance to speak however, the door slid open to reveal Dr. House, who had an intrigued expression on his face, even though it appeared he hadn't slept terribly well; purple streaked the skin under his shocking blue eyes.

"Dose number two, boy genius," he said, taking a seat after placing another glass of the dreaded charcoal on Reid's nightstand. "The first one isn't having any effect, and I want to try this once more before we start pursuing other avenues, because I'm pretty sure mandrake poisoning is one of the most interesting diagnoses I've had in a while."

"I thought you didn't visit patients," Reid remarked, grasping the glass with disdain.

"Special case," House said, eyes intent on the young man before him. "Drink up."

Reid watched as JJ put her hand on the silver pan that rested on the tray table, poised and ready if he were to vomit the concoction back up, and in that moment, Reid appreciated her immensely, knowing for certain he had made the right decision in naming her medical proxy. Garcia inched her chair closer to the bed, ready to leap to the rescue if something went wrong.

"Cheers," Reid said, putting the glass to his lips and drinking the liquid down rapidly as he'd done before. His gag reflex kicked in, but he managed to keep the charcoal down, although hot bile burned its way up his throat.

"Disgusting, isn't it?" House questioned, and Reid noticed JJ glancing at him with a slightly hostile curiosity.

"Very," Reid agreed.

"So," House asked, leaning in a little closer. "Where is the rest of your team?"

"Delivering a preliminary profile to the Princeton P.D.," Reid said, pulling back a little from House's intense gaze. "We don't have a complete profile yet, but we wanted to give the police all the information possible so we can find Dr. Chase."

"Agent Hotchner said that you knew the suspect from Cal-Tech," House continued. "What sort of bitch are we looking for, exactly?"

"Well," Reid said, not entirely sure what House was trying to accomplish. "She was two years older than me, so that would make her about thirty now. She's highly intelligent, and her moods are increasingly unstable. There were only traces of it when I knew her, but judging from the note, the phone call, and her behavior, it's grown worse. Her well-orchestrated plan shows she's of the organized variety, but personalities like hers tend to spiral…"

"Alright, oh one with the entire contents of the internet and every book known to man inside his brain," House interrupted, throwing up his hands. "You know, most people in your condition would stop working the case. But not you."

"I want to work the case until I can't," Reid said, guarded now. He felt that House's visit was in part a ploy to figure him out, because despite the tragedy he was experiencing, he couldn't resist a puzzle. And even more importantly, said puzzle distracted him from worrying over his kidnapped employee. He was also clearly trying to find out more about the woman who had kidnapped Chase, and the strategies the BAU was pursuing to find her; it was clear he would not stand by passively. "You don't really seem like the type to give up on one of _your_ cases, Dr. House."

"Why do you care so much?"

"Because I do."

"You try to fight a losing battle," House said. "There's always another serial killer."

"And there's always another sick person out there," Reid shot back. "We both do the same thing: we save lives. Clearly you don't think it's futile or you wouldn't be a doctor."

"Touche, boy genius," House said, a hint of grin on his face. "Your friend Prentiss tells me you were kidnapped," he said abruptly. "Explains a lot about you."

Reid noticed JJ and Garcia raise their metaphorical hackles, but he glanced at them to let them know he was alright.

"It changed me," Reid admitted, feeling as if House was trying to feel around for the state Dr. Chase might be in if he returned alive. _When_, Reid told himself. _When_. Even if the statistics burned in his brain told him otherwise.

"It did more than change you," House continued, voice growing serious, yet argumentative. "That was where the Dilaudid addiction came from."

"Why are you so interested in me?" Reid asked while the pain in his head started to increase. "Am I a puzzle for you to solve?"

"People make interesting puzzles," House replied. "And you are particularly _not_ boring, Dr. Reid."

"You're in here to avoid thinking about Dr. Chase," Reid said, knowing he was right. "Shouldn't you be with Dr. Cameron or Foreman instead of me? They probably need you."

"I had Wilson drive Cameron home to get some rest because she kept falling asleep at the conference table," House said, defensive himself now. "But being an idiot, she said she'd be back in a few hours. Foreman tends to deal with things on his own, and he's been busy monitoring you. You're deflecting about the kidnapping."

Reid felt the uncharacteristic agitation that had bothered him earlier return; he liked Dr. House, but at the present moment, he wasn't in the mood to be interrogated or used as a distraction.

"Well, I don't really enjoy talking about it unless it's necessary," he replied.

"Well maybe I think you're just avoiding."

"Well maybe I think you're a paranoid sociopath!" Reid exclaimed, hardly knowing exactly what was overcoming him.

"And I think you're a boy genius who's about to knock, knock, knock on heaven's door!" House said, banging his cane loudly on the metal railing with each "knock" for emphasis.

At this, JJ stepped in.

"I think it's time you left, unless you have actual medical expertise to share," she said, hand resting on her hip as she looked at House.

"But, MOM!" House said, stretching his lips down into a rather clownish expression that very nearly made Reid laugh despite his agitation.

"I'd be careful if I were you," Garcia said in a slightly sing-song voice. "People who mess with her family tend to end up with a bullet between their eyes."

House predictably ignored the both of them and turned back to Reid.

"Fine, you don't want to talk about the kidnapping," House said, needling Reid further. "Tell me, why did you join the FBI? You could have done anything, could have made millions."

"I felt my intelligence should be used to help people who needed it the most," Reid told him, more willing to talk on this subject although he found himself wishing he could just go back to sleep. His heart was racing again, and its beating felt irregular. "I wasn't interested in the money. I'm taking it that you didn't become a doctor for the money. You _like_ saving people. It's why you decided to keep working on my case."

"Like my dear friend Sherlock Holmes, I like solving puzzles," House said, peering at Reid. "Saving people is just collateral damage."

Reid sent him a look which told House in no uncertain terms that he knew this wasn't true by any stretch of the imagination. He remembered Dr. Chase speaking about Dr. House's incorrigible nature, but that he cared about and respected him nonetheless, and as he looked closely, he saw the fear the man had buried deep within himself. He was doing absolutely anything to avoid thinking about what was happening to Chase, frustrated that there was little he could do at the moment.

"No disrespect, but I really think you should go," JJ spoke again, more forceful this time.

"I would have left sooner but in case you haven't noticed, I'm a cripple."

"Well in that case I guess you have two options," JJ said slowly, and Reid saw the flash of biting irritation in her eyes. "You can either use your cane, or I can beat you with it."

House opened his mouth to snark back, but before he could, the shrill screams of the monitors started going off once more. Reid felt his face flushing red, and the world seemed to spin around him, his head feeling like someone was splitting it in two with a machete. Spots played in his vision.

"I don't think you'll be wanting me to leave just yet," House said, pulling out his pager as JJ simultaneously pulled out her phone.

* * *

><p>Chase felt goose bumps race up and down his skin as the door creaked open, the flick of the light switch sending light flooding through the room.<p>

He hardly recognized the woman before him.

Kelly's long blonde hair was now short and dark brown, green eyes had replaced blue, and she looked almost exactly like the ID picture she'd shown him of the pharmacy intern she'd murdered. He fleetingly wondered just how different she'd looked when Dr. Reid had known her; the man had an eidetic memory, so her appearance must have done a complete 180.

"Well hello there Dr. Chase," she said in the annoyingly sweet voice that he'd started to hear even when she wasn't in the room. "How are you?"

He wanted to tell her that he was so famished that it felt like his stomach was eating itself, that his lips were cracked from lack of water, and that he was in a decent amount of pain, and that she'd had him for he guessed was around 24 hours now, and would she please just let him go. He didn't tell her any of this of course, but merely glared.

"I'm fine."

"No need to lie to me, Dr. Chase," she said, and he flinched as she came closer, which sent a satisfied grin to her lips. "I'm betting you wish you'd stayed in surgery, aren't you, instead of coming back to work for Dr. House?"

"How do you…"

"I know everything," she said, squatting down in front of him. "Perhaps you're even wishing you'd stayed in Australia in the first place, and then you wouldn't be in this predicament." She ran her finger lightly along the small cut on his cheek, which was now almost completely obscured by the bruise she'd left with her rings.

"Don't touch me," he spat, daring to anger her, reckless even though he knew it was the last thing he should be.

"I really do think we need to get that lab coat off you," Kelly purred, ignoring him. "It covers up so much of your beautiful body, and these blood stains are just unbecoming on you. I would just cut if off with scissors, but the material is too thick, so I'll undo your restraints one at a time. But if you dare to attempt anything, you will pay. Do you understand me?"

Chase didn't respond but looked at the ground, his heart quickening, the hot bile rising in this throat again.

"I said," Kelly spoke again, grabbing his chin forcefully and making him look at her. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes…yes," Chase breathed, breath catching in his throat.

"You're starting to break, Dr. Chase," she whispered. "But we've still got a ways to go, so steel yourself, dear."

He closed his eyes as she unlocked the right shackle, crying out in pain as his arm moved for the first time in hours. He shouted louder when she roughly moved it again to slip his coat off. She repositioned his arm once more and Chase felt like his muscles might rip in half as she locked the shackle. She repeated the action with other arm, and he bit his lip against the pain, because this one had been shackled even longer.

"Scream all you want, Dr. Chase," she said, tossing his blood-stained lab coat to the side. "No one will hear you."

Terrified chills ran up Chase's spine at what she did next.

She started by removing the converse sneakers he'd been wearing, then slowly, agonizingly peeled off his socks, the cold air conditioning hitting the soles of his feet like ice. She forced his legs apart, spreading them wide and kneeling in between them, placing her hands securely on his hips.

"No, no, _please_ no," Chase said, his voice barely audible as unbidden tears sprang to his eyes despite his efforts to keep them back. "Please don't…I'm _begging_ you."

"Don't fret, Dr. Chase," she breathed, pushing closer into him. "I would never go _that_ far with anyone but Dr. Reid. Rest easy. But a little kissing never hurt anyone did it?"

Before he could even protest, before he could think, she was kissing his neck, her lips sickeningly moist against his skin. He cringed, closing his eyes again. Not this, anything but this…he didn't want her within ten feet of him, let alone touching him. He tried to imagine he was anywhere but here. Prayed to God that someone, anyone would come rescue him, prayed that she would leave his loved ones alone.

"Please stop," he whispered, the tears flowing freely down his face now. "I don't want it…Allison…"

"Shhh, Dr. Chase," she said, just barely removing her lips from the crease where his neck met his shoulder. "Enjoy it, because I daresay that in the very near future you won't be enjoying anything. No one is coming to rescue you…they don't give a damn that I took you. You are utterly insignificant to everyone you know."

With that, she ran one hand up to his face, her fingers becoming intertwined so tightly with his hair that it was painful, resting the other hand on his thigh. Then she placed her lips on his, kissing with such force that Chase was certain it would bruise. She pulled back quickly, a flash of fury in her eyes.

"You're not kissing back, Dr. Chase," she said, as though she was heartily surprised by this. "I don't get much satisfaction if you don't kiss me back."

He opened his eyes again, widening them in terror as he shook his head. She couldn't expect him to…

"I can't," he said. "I…"

"Of course you can," she said, jerking his hair back with her fingers so that it pulled at his scalp, furthering irritating his head wound. "I've seen you kissing Dr. Cameron in the hallways without hesitation. You seemed like rather a good, experienced kisser."

"No," Chase said resolutely, still shaking his head. "I won't do it."

"You will," she hissed. "Or I'll kill your precious Allison. I'll kill your friend Foreman. I'll kill the entire BAU so they'll never find you. I think I'll leave your Dr. House alone just so I can watch him suffer…he couldn't save _genius_ Dr. Reid and he couldn't save you. How terribly unfortunate. Now, one more try, Dr. Chase."

Once again her lips were on his, and though his first reaction was to instantly pull back, images flashed through his head: Allison dead on the floor of the diagnostics conference room, long blonde hair slashed, her body covered in blood; Foreman dead, Wilson dead, Cuddy dead…House in his office, left with nothing and no one. He saw Dr. Reid slip away, dead long before his time, and the rest of the BAU with him. He saw himself trapped here forever. And though his lips felt like stone, he began to move them slowly, desperately trying to imagine he was kissing Allison, that it was her warm, inviting lips on his own rather than these harsh, foreign ones. After a few moments Kelly tried to slip her tongue inside and Chase balked, starting to pull back. She pulled harder at his hair in warning and he obliged, repeating the action. When she finally pulled back, her face was split into a Cheshire cat grin.

"Dr. Chase," she swooned, running a finger over his lips. "You are a superb kisser."

Chase felt like he was hyperventilating, and before he could stop it, he vomited again on the floor.

"What a mess you've made," Kelly said, waggling her finger at him as she moved away from him and stood up. She leaned close to his ear once more before turning to leave. "I don't expect dear Dr. Cameron will want to be kissing you now, will she? Not after she finds out what you just did. But don't go anywhere, Dr. Chase. We'll be making a phone call to all our dear friends at Princeton-Plainsboro in just a little while."


	11. Variation 10

Variation on a Theme

A Criminal Minds/House, M.D. Crossover

A/N: Hello readers! Once again, thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, or added this story to their alerts/favorites. I love the support this story has been getting, because I have a terrific time writing it. Also, sorry for the updating delay, since I usually try to update at least once a week, but it's finals crunch time, and as a grad student that means I hardly sleep at night. Anyhow, I do hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

Chapter 11: Variation 10

"_Blackbird singing in the dead of night/Take these broken wings and learn to fly/All your life/You were only waiting for this moment to arise." ~ The Beatles_

Jennifer Jareau was utterly terrified.

She closed her eyes for a fleeting second in an attempt to push the feeling aside as she'd done so many times before, trying to keep a cool head, trying to stop her very heart from shaking. She felt Garcia's presence next to her, could practically feel the fear radiating off her body. She opened her eyes again, and the sight before them was no better. Reid's eyes were wide with panic, his pupils so dilated that JJ could scarcely differentiate them from the light brown irises. His knees were pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them as he stared at something that clearly wasn't there. He was grasping his head in pain, fingers digging into his skull. She glanced at the screaming machines, observing that his heart rate was 115.

That was far, far too high.

"What's happening?" Garcia questioned, voice higher than normal, her eyes fixed on Reid. "What's happening to him?"

"He's hallucinating," House said. "And he's at risk for cardiac circulatory collapse…" he was cut off as his phone rang in response to the page he'd sent. "Foreman, get your ass in here!" he said without pausing. "What? I told her to go home and come back in the morning. Fine, whatever, bring her too. And bring some IV beta blockers." He flipped the phone shut.

House gestured at JJ and she instantly came forward, trying to quell her emotions; she reached back to briefly squeeze Garcia's hand.

"I need you to help me calm him down," House continued. "He's delusional, but you might make him relax."

"Why can't you just put him out?" she questioned. "His heart, it's…"

"Because I need to see how this progresses," House interrupted, determined to persevere. "I have to observe him for a few minutes so I can try and determine what this. You just have to trust me."

She nodded, settling into an odd calm as she approached Reid, laying a gentle hand on his arm. He jumped back, staring at her with wide eyes, sheer panic written within them; whatever was poisoning his body was turning his beautiful, brilliant mind against him, and JJ hated having to watch.

"It's okay Spence," she whispered, using the tone Henry often responded to when he'd had a nightmare. "Dr. House is going to figure it out."

"I need to you tell me what you see, Dr. Reid," House said, and JJ knew just how serious it was when he dispensed with the nickname he'd used since the start. His eyes flickered to Foreman and Cameron as they ran inside the room.

"House, what are you waiting for?" Foreman questioned, almost shouting. "We need to sedate him, we need to get his heart rate down…"

"Foreman," House reprimanded, not to be argued with. "What do you see Dr. Reid?"

"He's here!" Reid shouted, his entire body shaking. "He's going to drug me…he's going to kill the whole team!"

"Who?" House pressed, leaning in closer to Reid, his voice almost a growl.

"Him!" Reid shouted again looking utterly out of his mind. "I won't choose one to die so he's going to slaughter all of them!"

"He's hallucinating Tobias Hankel," JJ clarified, catching House's eyes. "The man who kidnapped him."

The machine signaled that the heart rate was rising…

120.

125.

129.

JJ saw Hotch, Prentiss, Morgan, and Rossi, who had been working with the Princeton, P.D. after a caller had sent in a tip claiming they'd seen Kelly based on the surveillance footage that had been released to the press, and trying to strengthen the profile, appear in the doorway.

"Stay right there," House ordered without turning around. "This room's too crowded as it is. Foreman, give me the beta blockers, Cameron, come on the other side of Dr. Reid." He glanced up at JJ. "I need you and Dr. Cameron to restrain him while I put this new IV in. He's not going to like it. Foreman, hold his legs down."

JJ moved closer to Reid and carefully held his arm to the bed as House hung the IV bag and reached for his hand.

"No, I don't want it!" Reid screamed, and JJ knew that if he wasn't so weak from his poor appetite she wouldn't have been able to keep him down. He fought against them, beads of sweat lining his forehead as he struggled, his eyes wild with delirium.

"Spence we've got to get your heart rate down," she said, trying desperately to soothe him as Dr. House attempted to insert the new IV into his patient's shaking hand. She shared a glance with Dr. Cameron as she looked up, noting the exhaustion and the melancholy in her eyes, yet she was focused.

"JJ," Reid whispered, and JJ looked immediately back down at her friend as House took advantage of Reid's distraction and secured the IV. "JJ, it feels like someone is stabbing my head with a knife. He's going to kill all of you, he's there, in the hallway!"

"He's not there Spence," she said as he continued to fight against them, the blankets twisting all around his body and he nearly hyperventilated with the effort. "He's dead. You killed him."

"I know, I know," Reid said, shaking his head as a trace of sanity edged its way in. "But then why is he THERE? I don't… it doesn't make any sense. My heart feels funny…I don't…"

"Shhh," she said, loosening her grip on his arm and reaching for his hand instead. "It's okay."

She observed as House looked intently at Reid for a few more moments, eyes roving from the rash, to the pupils, to the slowly decreasing heart rate. He took note of the slight fever that had sprouted. He retrieved the Haloperidol from the drawer and Reid jumped back once more at the sight of the needle.

"Please, please no," he said, trembling even more now. "No more, no more."

JJ, Cameron, and Foreman tightened their grip once more as House inserted the needle into the IV line.

"Lay back Spence," JJ said, blinking to hold back the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. He looked at her once more as his eyes fluttered closed, his body melting against the sheets.

Silence fell for a few seconds, everybody's eyes fixed on the unconscious form of Spencer Reid.

"What happened?" Hotch questioned, fully entering the room now, the others following behind him.

"Whatever toxin that bitch put into his system has penetrated the blood-brain barrier," House said, his mouth set into a firm, frustrated line. "I'm thinking he's starting to experience cardiac circulatory collapse, and he's at risk for cardiac arrest. A high risk. Organ failure isn't off the table. His pain levels have shot through the roof. In short, it isn't looking good." House was ever blunt.

"Do you have any ideas on what it is?" Prentiss asked, and JJ noticed that her famous compartmentalization was beginning to fray. "Do these developments tell you anything new?"

"A few things," House responded vaguely, looking at Reid once more. "I need to discuss it with what's left of my team," House said, looking over at Foreman and Cameron, his eyes resting on the latter before landing on the BAU team. "But right now we need to discuss his pain management. When he wakes up he's going to be in a hell of a lot of pain, and the NSAIDS he insists upon won't do the trick. Obviously boy genius is no longer competent to make his own decisions, so Agent Jareau, this is your show."

JJ balked, feeling the eyes of the entire team upon her. Hotch and Rossi had each professed their feelings that Reid should accept the narcotics, and if there were any consequences they would be dealt with later; Prentiss had firmly sided with Reid on the issue, and Garcia wanted to do anything to prevent him from being in pain, but it was when JJ met Morgan's eyes that she made her decision…

_JJ wrenched open the door to Reid's apartment at hearing Morgan's knock on the other side. _

_ "Derek," she breathed, looking pale and flustered. "You're here. Good."_

_ "You okay JJ?" he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder as he peered into her eyes. "What's going on? Your call sounded so urgent…"_

_ JJ hesitated, catching Morgan's gaze. "You know about…"_

_ "The Dilaudid?" Morgan answered softly before she could even finish her sentence. "Yeah. I figured it out. I confronted him about it, and the look on his face was all the admission I needed."_

_ "He decided to quit a few days ago," she said, turning her head toward the bathroom. The door was closed, a sheaf of light flooding out from underneath. _

_ "He told you that?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "He's tried so hard to keep it to himself, even if it's the last thing any of us would want."_

_ "I noticed his hands shaking all day," JJ said, running a hand through her already mussed hair. "And then I followed him home. He was reluctant at first, but I convinced him to let me stay. He's going through withdrawal, and it's bad. I just…I didn't know if I could handle it alone." She breathed in, rubbing furiously at her eyes to keep herself in check. _

_ "He won't go to the hospital, will he?" Morgan asked._

_ JJ shook her head. "No. He doesn't want to put anyone's job on the line or his own reputation in jeopardy. I told him we could keep it confidential, but…" she trailed off, whipping around as the sounds of retching were heard from the confines of the bathroom._

_ Morgan followed JJ down the hall, and for the first time since her arrival she noted what a mess Reid's apartment was. Normally it was incredibly neat with everything kept in its place, but now things were tossed everywhere; books were spread across the coffee table as though he'd tried to read but couldn't focus, various sweaters were draped across the sofa, coffee mugs piled in the sink. She opened the door carefully, finding Reid leaning over the toilet and breathing hard, having just emptied the entire contents of his stomach. He hardly even noticed their entrance._

_ "Spence," JJ said, squatting down next to him and putting a hand lightly on his back so as not to startle him. "Morgan's here."_

_ "Morgan?" Reid questioned, his voice hoarse from vomiting, his pale face tinged with green and covered in a sheen of sweat. "What…why?"_

_ "I was just worried and thought there might be strength in numbers," JJ said, tracing small circles into his back with her thumb. She watched as Morgan came and squatted down on Reid's other side, and JJ was certain she'd never heard his voice sound so gentle._

_ "You trust me, right kid?" he asked. _

_ Reid nodded, eyes flickering over to Morgan for a second. "Yes…yes."_

_ It was quiet between the trio for a few moments as JJ continued running her hand up and down Reid's back in comfort, his hands clenching the toilet rim so hard his knuckles turned white, the blood flowing to the tips of his fingers. _

_ "You don't have to be here," Reid spoke again, looking at JJ and Morgan each in turn, his eyes bloodshot. "You both have things to do. I…I can do this on my own. I promise I'll let you know I'm alright, I just really don't want to put you through this."_

_ "Not a chance kid," Morgan said, leaving no room for argument. "I'm just as stubborn as you are."_

_ "I don't…" Reid said, his breathing becoming a smidge shallow. "It's my fault this is happening in the first place."_

_ "You went through hell, Spence," JJ said, feeling her heart starting to crack at the implication that he didn't deserve anyone's help when it was the farthest thing from the truth. "No one blames you. We're staying."_

_ Reid nodded, giving in to his friends simply because he was too exhausted to do otherwise. He winced in pain, which didn't go unnoticed by JJ or Morgan._

_ "I'm going to get you some aspirin and some water okay?" JJ asked, rising from her position on the floor._

_ "Please," Reid replied, looking as though he was about to vomit again. "And you…you have to get rid of it. The Dilaudid. I couldn't make myself do it."_

_ "Where is it kid?" Morgan asked, taking JJ's place on the floor while she went to retrieve a glass of water from the kitchen. "I promise I'll get rid of it all."_

_ "There's a vial in my messenger bag in the living room," Reid began, his voice flooded with shame. "And another in my nightstand. And then a third on the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet on the right. You have to get rid of them all Morgan," he pleaded. "Tomorrow's trash day so you can throw them in the dumpster outside, because if you don't, I don't know if I'm going to be able to stop myself."_

_ "You got it," Morgan said as JJ came back in bearing water and retrieving the aspirin from the medicine cabinet on the wall. He brushed his surrogate brother's shoulder before going to throw out the Dilaudid, leaving JJ and Reid alone._

_ Reid moved from the toilet and leaned up against the navy-tiled walls, accepting the water from JJ and swallowing the aspirin gratefully. JJ sat down next to him, unable to stop herself from brushing a sweaty strand of hair from his forehead. She'd started at the BAU about six months after Reid had, immediately warmed by his sweet, genuine personality, and they'd been close ever since. Three and half years his senior, she'd always been protective of him, but this had only increased since the Tobias Hankel incident that had forever changed him; in her head she knew it wasn't her fault, but she wasn't sure she would ever be able to let go of the crushing guilt it still sometimes caused her. JJ wondered if Gideon's abrupt departure two weeks ago had prompted Reid to take this action._

_ "I'm so sorry JJ," he said, looking over at her, shame etched into his features. "I'm so sorry."_

_ "You don't need to be sorry Spence," she said seriously, attempting to look him in the eyes even as he looked away. "We all just want to help you overcome this, to be yourself again."_

_ "I shouldn't have given in," Reid said, his voice cracking despite himself. "I shouldn't have been weak. God, I'm no better than Tobias…"_

_ "Don't you __**dare**__ say that Spencer Reid," she said, taking his chin in her hand and forcing him to look at her. "You went through a hell that hardly anyone can comprehend, and you are one of the strongest people I know. Do you understand me?"_

_ Reid stared into her eyes for a moment before slowly nodding._

_ "I just…I went through that stage when I was snapping at everyone," he continued. "I hardly even recognized myself. I took it out on Emily…"_

_ "If you think Emily hasn't gotten over that then you don't know her very well," JJ said sternly. "That was months ago, and she was worried sick about you."_

_ Reid nodded again, resting his head on his knees so that his voice was slightly muffled. _

_ "And Gideon," he said, and JJ heard the first trace of tears in his voice, which spoke volumes to her; it was obvious that he felt things intensely, but he so often tried to keep any melancholy he felt to himself because he always seemed to think it would be a burden. Only when directly confronted or when he just couldn't keep it to himself anymore would he unload. "I can't believe he just left like that. Emily told me to try and remember the good times, and that I was the only person he said goodbye to, but it just…" he trailed off, unable to maintain his voice._

_ At this JJ reached out and pulled him to her so that his face was buried in her shoulder, her arm wrapped around him. He stiffened at first but gave in after a few seconds, squeezing her hand when she took his. _

_ "Thank you," he whispered, closing his eyes as his words were half marred by a sob, a sob that JJ took as a sign that he was finally starting to cope with everything that had happened. "Thank you so much."_

_ "Always Spence," she said, voice nearly catching in her throat. "You're my family."_

"No," JJ said, adamant. "You can't give him the narcotics. I'm standing in his place and I know he wouldn't want them."

"Don't be an idiot," House said, ever scathing. "He'll want them when he wakes up, I can guarantee that."

"He won't," JJ argued, stepping closer to House. "You don't know what it was like for him to have to go through that addiction, to detox..." She looked House directly in the face, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Dr. Cameron and Foreman share a glance. Her eyes shot to House's leg, to his cane, and the pieces came together like a jigsaw puzzle.

"Maybe you do understand," she continued, softening her tone. "Which is why you know I can't let you do this."

House's blue eyes blazed with something JJ couldn't entirely define, and it took a moment before he spoke again.

"Fine," he said shortly. "But we'll have to put him in a medically induced coma when he wakes up from the Haloperidol, if you want to keep him out of pain. We gave him a very high dose so he'll be out for at least a few hours or so. But I need your decision now."

JJ paused, looking around at each of her team members, her family, in turn. She thought of Henry, thought of calling Will and telling him to bring him here immediately to see his godfather.

"You should know," House said, and JJ heard an empathy there that she hadn't witnessed before. "That he might not wake up from the coma if this toxin gets ahead of us. I may be brilliant, but we're losing time."

She felt Emily grasp her hand, and it was this simple gesture that gave her courage.

"If you think…" she stopped, trying to gain control over her voice. "If you believe that's the best option, then I agree. But we'll all need a chance to…to talk to him first."

The mood of the room grew so somber that JJ felt like she was trying to crawl her way out of quicksand, grasping at any shred of light that might still shine forth. But before anyone could truly react, before anyone could speak, House's cell phone rang.

"I'm a little busy here Cuddy! I've got a missing employee and dying genius," he snapped in greeting. He paused, eyes widening slightly. "Just hand the phone to the cop and we'll be there."

He flipped the phone shut, squeezing it so hard that it might break.

"The bitch is on the phone in Cuddy's office," he said. "Foreman, you stay here and monitor Dr. Reid until I get back. You aren't to leave. Cameron, come with us."

JJ looked to Hotch, whose expression was absolutely unreadable as he began issuing orders without hesitation.

"JJ, stay here with Reid and Dr. Foreman, and we'll bring you up to date when we get back," he said, glancing down at his fallen young colleague before looking back up at her. "And call Gideon and get him down here immediately. I do not want Reid left alone for any reason. I'll send another Princeton, P.D. officer down. Everyone else, with me."

* * *

><p>Seven people practically ran down the hallway, causing stares from everyone in the vicinity, House threatening to send nurses flying with his cane. Hotch lead the way, thoughts, facts, and predictions buzzing around his brain. They reached Cuddy's office to find her grasping her desk tightly, face pale but doing her best to keep control of the situation even though she looked wholly frazzled.<p>

"Agent Hotchner is here," Cuddy said with utmost disdain to the person on the other end of the line.

"I thought I told you to give the phone to the cop?" House hissed. "You're not a hostage negotiator, Cuddy, you're a hospital administrator. And you tell me _I'm_ reckless."

"House!" Cuddy exclaimed, flicking off the speaker phone for a moment. "They're busy trying to trace the call. Show some tact for once in your life." She flicked the speaker back on, the goose bumps prevalent on her arms.

"Is the class present?"

Kelly's voice was filled with that sweet venom, a siren's song that would only lure you closer and closer to a terrible fate. Hotch saw House open his mouth and turned to look at him, placing a finger on his lips to indicate that he wanted silence, and signaling to Rossi to keep his eyes on the ornery physician. Cameron was unsteady on her feet, and Prentiss placed an arm around her shoulders.

"This is Agent Hotchner," Hotch said, moving to take Cuddy's place behind the desk as she moved aside.

"Well hello there Aaron," Kelly cooed. "But I'm guessing you aren't alone, are you? Tell me, how many walls has Agent Morgan punched? Has perky Penelope started crying yet? Has Emily…"

"If you called to talk to us, then I ask you to do so," Hotch said, his voice as hard as the stone from which King Arthur pulled the infamous sword. "What have you done with Dr. Chase?"

"He's alive, if that's what you're asking," she said, nonchalance in her tone. "We're having fun together, although I daresay I'm having a great deal more. How's _brilliant_ Spencer? I assume he's not dead yet, although I'm betting he's in quite a bit of pain. Losing his oh-so-perfect mind, perhaps?"

The pleasure in her voice at the prospect of Reid's downward spiral made Hotch nauseated, but he held his focus.

"Let's talk about you releasing Dr. Chase," Hotch said, ignoring her request. "If you release him and tell us what's wrong with Dr. Reid, then we can make a deal."

"Can you?" Kelly asked, suddenly furious, raising her voice with every syllable. "Can you make me a _deal_, Agent Hotchner?"

"I can," Hotch replied, remaining calm in response to her abrupt anger, knowing that doing so would likely keep her from hanging up on him.

"If you were as a good a profiler as you seem to think," she hissed. "Then you would know that I don't make deals. What exactly _do_ you know about me, Aaron?"

"I know that you went to Cal-Tech with Dr. Reid," he began carefully, hoping he could tempt her into divulging information by mentioning Reid. "I know that you were classmates there, that you were friendly…"

"Friendly," Kelly said, her voice growing disturbingly low. "Oh yes, we were friendly." A bizarre mix of admiration and hatred was laced around every word, and Hotch's memory flashed to Reid's story in his hospital room, to his realization that Kelly had perhaps wanted more than friendship.

"I know that you were a bright young student pursuing your Doctorate in Engineering," Hotch continued. "I know that your parents died…"

"Have you ever noticed how arrogant Dr. Reid is?" She asked, cutting him off. He could hear her shallow breaths, could hear the jealousy and annoyance sinking into every syllable. "He was always sucking up to all of the professors and taking everything that should have been _mine_. My deal still stands: I will not return Dr. Chase to you unless you either give Spencer to me or let him die in that pathetic hospital bed. I _will_ have the last word."

"You don't want to have him dead just yet," Hotch stated. "You want to give him an ultimatum: either stay with you, or die, and you'd rather have the former. If you don't tell me what toxin you're using you won't ever get that option." Hotch hated the words pouring forth from his mouth, because even the mere mental image of Reid being kept prisoner by this woman was enough to make him want to blow through the roof, but he needed to keep her talking.

"If he won't come with me, he _will_ die, and from my calculations, he isn't long for this world," Kelly said. "I will be in control of his life and his death, and there's _nothing_ you can do to stop me."

"You underestimate my team," Hotch said. "You underestimate the diagnostics department." He kept his voice even, but he heard a hint of undeniable anger intruding upon his efforts.

"Careful, Agent Hotchner," Kelly said, and he could practically hear her grinning on the other end. "Dr. Chase will pay for any mistakes you make. Now to the reason I called: are you finally ready to hand Spencer over to me in return for Dr. Chase here? Because if you don't…" she trailed off, leaving her no doubt horrific plans to their imaginations, which was worse than if she had given them every detail, because sometimes, one's imaginings could be worse than even the harshest reality.

Hotch looked up and saw Dr. Cameron being helped into a chair by Prentiss and Dr. Cuddy, as House milled next to her, his eyes containing an electric anger so intense that Hotch was sure they could shoot lightning bolts. Cameron covered her mouth with her hand, but she was unable to stop her sobs from pouring forth. Hotch immediately took the phone off speaker.

"Oh dear, is sweet little Dr. Cameron upset?" Kelly asked in mock concern. "You could stop her pain you know. All you have to do is give up your genius."

"Mark my words," Hotch seethed. "We _will_ find you, and you _will_ lose."

Kelly laughed, infuriating Hotch further. "You don't even know what I look like Aaron. You hardly know anything about me. Even little Miss Garcia can't find much on me."

"It's our job to know you," Hotch said, eyes roving around to Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss. "And we will catch you."

"That may be," Kelly whispered, and Hotch felt shivers run down his spine at her deranged tone of voice, the kind of sound that haunts every child's nightmares. "But by the time you do, the two you want to save will be, what's the word? Dead."

The phone clicked off, and she was gone.

* * *

><p>Chase felt his throat constrict as Kelly pushed the end button on the small cell phone in her hand, watching as she gazed at him with a sadistic smile that reached all the way up to her now green eyes.<p>

"I do feel incredibly sorry for you, Dr. Chase," she said, fingering the knife on her belt once again. "_No one_ cares enough to save you. Agent Hotchner won't even consider my deal. Your wife isn't doing anything, your boss isn't doing anything, your friends are doing anything. You just aren't worth the risk, I suppose."

"You can't…" Chase hesitated, his voice clearly shaking now, his head throbbing. "You can't expect them to trade one man for another. It's not…it's not ethical."

"Oh, are you scared?" she asked in mock concern, crouching down in front of him and looking into his face.

"No." It wasn't the truth, but he wouldn't give into her, he wouldn't let her see his terror because it would only enhance her game.

"Your voice and your body are giving you away, I'm afraid," she said, indicating his violently shaking form. "Poor, frightened, baby."

"You lost your temper during that call," Chase pressed on, a small voice in his head bidding him to shut up, another one egging him on. "You're only giving them clues. The BAU is the best in the world, just like House's department."

Kelly grabbed the front of his shirt in a violent rush, a few of the buttons popping off in the process, her face so close to his that he could feel her breath on his neck.

"Pawns don't have opinions!" she screamed in his ear. She let go and shoved him back against the wall, and he barely avoided smashing his already wounded head against the wood. "Your insolence will not be tolerated. Anything else to say?"

He shook his head dejectedly, looking down again.

"Use your words, Dr. Chase," she mocked. "I know you're intelligent enough to form them."

"I don't have anything else to say," he whispered quickly.

"That's what I thought," Kelly replied, and Chase felt a cold sweat start coating his body as she ran one hand up beneath his shirt, the other pulling the knife from its sheath. "Now, this might hurt _just_ a little," she continued. "Luckily I know the anatomy of the human body well enough to not make this fatal."

Chase wanted to fight, to try to somehow resist her by kicking her off, but the fact was, she had the knife and he was chained to the wall, any resistance likely resulting in even more pain. Nevertheless, he twisted away from her out of instinct as the knife drew closer.

"Move an inch and I swear I will slit your throat here and now," she said, her voice poisonous as she dug her nails into the skin of his chest. "Be a good boy."

Chase closed his eyes, trembling so hard that he was fleetingly reminded of leaves on a blustery fall day, the ones that hang onto their branches by the thinnest twigs imaginable.

And then all he felt was white-hot pain.

Kelly pushed the knife into his abdomen, and although it avoided any crucial areas, it didn't mean the agony was any less God-awful. She pulled it back out quickly and stood up, watching as tears leaked from Chase's eyes.

"Don't bleed all over everything," she commanded, wiping the blood off on her jeans. "Or I'll have to patch you up, and believe me, you won't like it. But for now I have business to attend to. Enjoy, Dr. Chase."

With that she was gone, and just a few moments after, Chase fell unconscious, his body's only available response to the pain.


	12. Variation 11

Variation on a Theme

A Criminal Minds/House, M.D. Crossover Fan-fiction

A/N: Hello readers! I'm sorry for the delay in updating, but with the end of my semester, and then Christmas, things got pretty insane. But the good news is I still have almost two weeks left of vacation, and I'm posting an extra-long chapter for you. Thanks once again to everyone who is reading, reviewing, or adding this to their alerts, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please let me know what you think!

Chapter 12: Variation 11

"_It just takes a second for my world to come crumbling down/Oh I'm sure in the distance, you can hear that awful sound…And just like that my life is broken/I can barely breathe/And now I'm open for suggestions." ~ Suggestions (Orelia Has Orchestra)_

Everyone stared as Hotch put the phone back in its cradle, and his expression reminded Morgan of the one that had been permanently etched there during the entire Foyet ordeal; his frown was pronounced, the edges of his lips turned down impossibly far, the lines in his forehead striking, a gleam of desperation in his dark eyes. Kelly words rang in Morgan's head: _Can you, Agent Hotchner?_ _Can you make me a deal?_ He knew his boss had inevitably thought of Foyet at the very mention of the word deal, but this time, the killer they were dealing with wanted no such thing. Morgan glanced over to Dr. Cameron, who was still crying quietly into her hands, Dr. Cuddy's arm wrapped around her shoulders. House stood close by, a hand barely resting on his employee's arm, but even as he stared at the carpet, he looked ready to explode, his hand gripping his cane as though it was his lifeline, eyes practically crackling with electricity.

"We have to get ahead of her," Hotch said, breaking the stunned silence. "We need a more solid profile."

"You can use the conference room in my office," House grumbled. "Even I can't let you put up those boards and all that stuff in the ICU. We can do the differential in my inner office."

Morgan got the impression from Dr. Cuddy's face that this was not normal behavior for House, and even Dr. Cameron looked up, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Don't look so shocked," House snapped. "I _can_ be nice. Now, kindly go retrieve Foreman from boy genius' room if he's still stabilized, and then we can get started on the differential…even though you _aren't_ supposed to be here."

"Because you wouldn't have called me back in the instant this happened, or anything," Cameron shot back as she walked out the door.

"What happens now?" Dr. Cuddy asked, sounding exhausted and looking immensely worried. "How do we find her? Find Chase?"

"We're going to work with what this last phone call told us," Morgan said. "And try to fit the puzzle pieces together."

"And Garcia will work on finding any possible addresses where Kelly might have taken Dr. Chase," Hotch supplemented. "Just keep a watchful eye," he told her. "And I'll talk to the Princeton P.D. to see if they were able to trace the call."

With that, the team followed Hotch out of Dr. Cuddy's office, when they were stopped by the chief of the Princeton P.D in the hallway.

"Any luck tracing the call?" Rossi asked, running a hand over his beard in frustration.

The officer shook his head. "Not much. We can only tell that she's still in the tri-city area, but nothing specific. She has to be using a disposable cell phone. It almost seems like she has a supply of them, because as you pointed out, she's called from a different number every time."

"We'll keep each other up-to-date, and I'll make sure Agent Jareau sends an update to the press," Hotch said. "If anything happens, we'll be in Dr. House's office."

The chief nodded, and the team continued to House's office, going up the elevator and down the hallway in silence, seeing that House, Foreman, and Cameron were already in his office, writing symptoms down on a whiteboard. Morgan looked at each of his team members in turn; Garcia sat in the chair next to him, busying herself with opening her computer and setting up everything with her multiple search engines, poised and ready; Prentiss sat on his other side, picking her fingernails, ideas whirring behind her black eyes; Rossi sat next to her, his expression unreadable; Hotch still stood, pacing.

"Garcia?" Hotch asked. "If Gideon is back in Reid's room, can you bring JJ in here? We probably need her."

Garcia nodded, rising noiselessly from her chair, the usual bright smile nowhere in sight. Morgan looked back to Hotch, who had taken a seat at the end of the glass table and was gazing around at the group of them.

"I know this is an unusual situation," he began, his voice determined, serious, but still containing warmth. "I know we're all worried about Reid. But we've got to keep our heads in this if we want to save him, if want to save Dr. Chase. We have to trust in Dr. House and his team, and we have to trust in our profiles. This woman might be elusive, but she is not impossible to catch."

Before they could start tossing ideas around, however, Morgan felt the need to speak up about something that had been nagging him since Reid had taken a turn for the worst.

"I know this might sound odd, and I don't mean to distract us from the investigation, but I think it might be time to call Reid's father," Morgan said, looking around for reactions from his teammates, Rossi in particular, since he had also met William Reid. "I know they aren't close, but Reid…Reid could be dying." He forced the words from his lips, the first of the team to use that word directly.

_Dying_.

Rossi locked eyes with him for a moment as JJ and Garcia re-entered, memories of the case in Vegas swirling within them.

"I think you're right," Rossi finally agreed. "He at least deserves to know his son is this ill, and they did at least mend fences a tiny bit when we were there."

"Are we talking about Reid's parents?" JJ, asked, taking a seat next to Rossi, her eyes betraying that she had been crying; black mascara was smudged under her right eye, and both were slightly reddened. But as she looked up at him, Morgan saw perseverance in his friend's eyes. One thing was certain about JJ: she never gave up hope. "He tried to call his mother a little while ago, and she…she was having an episode so she couldn't come to the phone. But she should know as well, even if it upsets her."

"Is there any way to get Diana out of Beninngton?" Morgan asked, the full gravity of the situation socking him in the stomach. He knew Reid didn't want to trouble his mother, but if he was dying…

"I know Reid is her power of attorney, so it would usually be up to him to make that decision," Hotch added, looking at JJ. "But since you are his temporary power of attorney, you might be able to make the decision. In any case, we need to call his father first. Morgan, would you mind?"

"No, I can do it. Baby Girl can you look…"

"Already done sweets," Garcia said, pushing the computer screen toward him. "Number's right here."

"We'll get started while you call Mr. Reid, then we'll bring you up to speed," Hotch said, grazing Morgan's shoulder lightly.

Morgan nodded, dialing the number to the law office where William Reid worked into his cell phone as he stepped out into the hallway. He glanced into Dr. House's office, and it looked like House and Foreman were arguing about something while Dr. Cameron tried to referee between them. The phone rang only once before the receptionist answered.

"This is William Reid's office, how may I help you?"

"Hello, this is Agent Derek Morgan of the FBI," he said, suddenly feeling the emotion start to overcome him as he thought of how he would give Mr. Reid this news. No matter how estranged they might be, Spencer was still his son. "I'd like to speak to Mr. Reid. It's urgent."

"He's in a meeting at the moment…"

"It concerns his son," Morgan interrupted. "He'll want to take this call."

"Alright, just a moment," she replied. During the two-minute wait, Morgan turned the words over in his mind. _Oh hello sir, I'm sorry to tell you this, but your son very well might die in the next 24 hours. Yes, your 28-year-old son who is being pursued by one of the most conniving, revenge driven unsubs I've ever seen. No, they can't figure out what's wrong just yet, no we haven't caught her… _He'd explained situations similar to this calmly enough to dozens of families, but this was Reid's father, the father of one of his best friends…this was different. He gathered his thoughts as he heard another voice on the other end of the line.

"Agent Morgan?" William Reid asked. "My receptionist says something's happened to Spencer? What's wrong?"

For all the anger Morgan held against this man on Reid's behalf, he couldn't help but be softened by the barely contained panic in his voice, the sound of a frantic father worried for his son.

"I'm afraid there's a bit of situation, sir," Morgan began. "The suspect, a girl Spencer knew while he was at Cal-Tech, has been poisoning him, and has kidnapped one of the doctors from this hospital. The doctors have been testing, but they can't yet pinpoint what the toxin is. And the symptoms, the pain…well, they want to put him in a medically induced coma for now."

"I'll fly out as soon as possible," William cut in. "Tonight."

"There's one more thing sir," Morgan said hesitantly, unsure of William's reaction. "Spencer tried to call Diana and she was…unavailable. We all know this news might upset her, but we all thought she should be informed, that maybe she should be brought here if possible."

"Diana hates flying," William said, sounding uncertain. "And I'm sure Spencer has power of attorney for her, and if he's unable to make decisions…"

"Agent Jareau has stepped in as his medical proxy and power of attorney," Morgan replied. "And she can talk to Bennington, if necessary. I know this might be unconventional, I know that it might upset her, but I've also seen how close she is to her son. If something were to happen she would be in a hospital, and her doctor could send instructions along."

William paused.

"You're right," he finally said. "I'll see what I can do. And tell Spencer…tell him…"

"I will sir," Morgan said, finishing his thought for him. "Let me put you on with Agent Jareau to work out the details. Hold on."

Morgan stepped back inside and offered his phone to JJ, quickly informing her of the conversation, and that she might need to speak to the hospital herself before they would release Diana to William Reid. Morgan stepped back into the office as JJ stepped out, breaking into the conversation.

"She seems to be experiencing extreme idealization and devaluation episodes," Prentiss was saying. "Her hatred of Reid is wrapped up in her sick worship of him."

"It profiles like severe, untreated Borderline Personality Disorder," Hotch answered, furrowing his eyebrows. "At the most severe levels it can be a disturbing condition, but I don't believe that's enough to make her kill; most people with that condition don't suddenly become murderers, but if she does in fact have an untreated psychological condition, it is exacerbating her need to kill, to take this revenge. We need to figure out why the fixation on Reid. There has to be a trigger."

"Unsubs who want to take revenge on someone specific rarely go after that person first," Rossi pointed out. "Garcia, can you check for any unsolved murders in the Quantico and Northern Virginia area in the last sixth months? That's when Reid said she started working at the coffee shop. She might have been killing surrogates, and we can learn something if the victimology of any of those murders match up."

"Can do sir," she said, fingers already going on the keys. "You should know though, I did a little digging on her childhood, since the years after she left Cal-Tech are currently a blank slate, and aside from the family therapy records, I found some information on her father."

Morgan looked up at Garcia, pondering when she'd managed to find those kinds of records in all the insanity of the past few hours, but decided that thinking too hard on it wasn't a good idea; Garcia's speed and searching abilities often seemed almost inhuman, and from the look in her eyes, he could she had discovered something pivotal.

"What did you find?" he asked.

"Dr. Matthew Lewis," Garcia began, "was a physics professor at, coincidentally, Princeton. He was apparently pretty well-known in the field, and although his IQ wasn't as high as Reid's, he was at the genius level. He got a lot of papers published, that sort of thing. And from the number of therapists the family saw, and the number of out-of-town speaking engagements he racked up, I'm guessing he wasn't home a lot. And I also found out that the car-crash that killed him and his wife was caused by faulty brakes."

"Faulty brakes?" Morgan asked, the smallest bit of relief flooding his veins as they finally made some progress. "People usually notice their brakes having trouble and get it fixed before something like that can happen…is it possible that this was Kelly's first murder?"

"If it was, no one suspected her of it," Garcia replied. "A few months after her parents died she just dropped out of school and disappeared off the grid as far as I can tell. And that first disguise she had? The original blonde picture we sent out to the press? It looks eerily similar to her mother's photo."

"Which means that her disguises aren't just random," Emily said, eyes glowing with an idea. "They're significant to her, or serve a specific purpose. And she clearly took her father's absence as a rejection, and then Reid, who was intellectually similar to her father, rejected her romantically, defeated her academically…that must be where the revenge is coming from."

"We need to talk to someone in the physics department at Princeton," Hotch said. "Prentiss, can you head over to the campus now and find anyone who's been there since before Dr. Lewis died? Maybe talk to the records office and see if there are any old addresses on record that Kelly might have taken Dr. Chase to, any information that we might find useful?"

Prentiss was about to respond when Chief Arnold rapped at the door.

"Agents, there's been a missing person reported," he said. "A one Samantha Rogers."

"Does she work in the hospital?" Rossi asked, getting up from his chair.

"That's the thing," Arnold responded. "She's a new pharmaceutical intern who started working here just a few days ago, and her roommate's missing persons report just reached me. I checked with the pharmacist, and he says she's reported to work every day since she started."

His words and the realization they brought dawned on Morgan like a direct punch to the solar plexus. How on _earth_ had she managed to pose as yet another hospital worker and get away with it? _Because she keeps changing her appearance_, he told himself, _because we had no idea what she looks like. _He listened to Hotch's reply, although his voice seemed very far away. As he spoke, JJ stepped back into the room.

"Chief, we need to put extra officers by the pharmacy and by all the entrances," Hotch said, a resolute glint in his eyes. "Because I can almost guarantee that Kelly has changed her appearance to look like Samantha Rogers, whether she's murdered her or simply kidnapped her. Is her roommate here?"

"She's on her way," Arnold answered. "I thought you might want to talk to her."

Hotch nodded. "JJ, when she gets here, ask her what she can tell you about Samantha, and get a picture to send out to the press; it could help people identify Samantha and the changes in Kelly's appearance."

"Yes sir," JJ replied.

"Prentiss, I still want you to go over to the campus and see what you can find out," Hotch continued. "Morgan, Rossi, you're with me. We need to go and talk to the pharmacists and see what they can tell us." He turned to Garcia, sadness flashing into his eyes. "Can you take the laptop and go sit with Reid? Please tell Gideon what's going on, and work on finding those unsolved Northern Virginia murders."

She nodded at him and practically bolted off, sharing a worried look with Morgan before exiting. Morgan followed Hotch out the door, his heart lifting the tiniest fraction. They were getting somewhere, and with Reid's sickly complexion burned in his brain, he only hoped it had come soon enough.

* * *

><p>On the other side of the glass wall, House had grown impossibly cantankerous. On a normal day Cameron would have been able to handle his mood, but today was a different story, and Foreman wasn't helping matters.<p>

"Physostigmine can cause a cholinergic crisis!" House was practically shouting now. "You know, respiratory depression, seizures, all that stuff that boy genius doesn't need to happen to him right now? Or did you somehow get this job without going to medical school?" We can't administer it unless we _know _it's a tropine alkaloid that's she's poisoned him with. There's several of them, you know, that medication isn't a fix-all."

"Since when were you so careful about treatment?" Foreman bellowed. "You're always about the risk, and now you've suddenly changed your mind?"

House stood up, slamming his hand on the desk with so much force that the giant red and gray ball went flying across the room.

"The kid is at death's door! Excuse me if I don't want to push him over the edge," House said, his voice containing the kind of menacing danger that Cameron rarely heard, but it was the tone that signaled anyone who heard to back off. Foreman, unfortunately, had always refused to do so, which was both a blessing and a curse. "Not to mention that his fate and Chase's seem to be inherently linked." He locked eyes with Foreman, who glared right back. "I'm the head of this department for a reason, Foreman."

Foreman opened his mouth to argue, but Cameron cut him off before he could even begin his sentence.

"Just stop it, both of you!" she said, feeling her face redden in anger, her hands shaking slightly at the thought of what this sick woman could be doing to Robert, imagined images of her torturing him, killing him, burned in her psyche. "This won't help Chase and it won't help Dr. Reid. You're acting like children." She rounded on House, who looked a bit thrown by her sudden explosion. "I know you're acting this way because you're worried about Chase," she said, her voice softening a smidge. "And you _have_ to know that I am too, that we all are." She glanced at Foreman, who suddenly looked sheepish "But you two shouting at each other isn't going to help anything. This isn't how we do differentials."

"You're right," Foreman said, pausing a moment before responding. "What do you think it is, House?" The frustration in his voice was obvious, but Cameron appreciated him ceding to their boss in this situation, because if they couldn't have a proper discussion, this would never get solved.

"Anti-depressant toxicity," House said, looking directly at Cameron as he spoke.

"Patients usually go down rapidly with that," Cameron countered. "Dr. Reid has been getting worse over time."

"If she's been poisoning him bit by bit then the progression makes sense," House said. "The delirium, the slightly psychotic behavior with the hallucinations, the tachycardia, the lung problems…it could fit."

"And liquid anti-depressants aren't hard to score online or off the street," Foreman added. "She could have gotten them easily."

"You would know that," House said, playing on the old joke of Foreman's juvenile record.

Silence fell between the three for a few moments, and it was clear that they were all thinking the same thing: what was happening to Chase? But true to form, they were careful about showcasing emotions.

"Do you think…" Cameron asked hesitantly, needing desperately to at least lighten the crushing load on her chest. Agent Jareau had been very helpful to talk to, but she needed to hear something from these two men she'd worked with for years, from this dysfunctional family she'd joined in House's circle at Princeton-Plainsboro. "Do you think Robert will come back alive?"

Foreman's eyes widened in surprise at her words, while House merely continued to peer at her as if he was trying to decipher something. Cameron felt as if the metaphorical rug of her world was being pulled out from under her, and she needed assurance, even if it was folly. She only wanted her husband returned alive, no matter the state he was in; she would do whatever necessary to help him heal, physically and psychologically. Because if she lost him, she didn't know how she would continue on…losing her first husband to cancer had been a tragedy it took her years to recover from, and she didn't know what she would do, how she would cope, if Robert was taken from her in such a brutal way. An image of his face on their wedding day imprinted itself in her mind; his glowing smile that had sent her spinning years before they'd ever started dating, the glow in his eyes as he looked at her, the zeal for life written upon his countenance. He'd already had his fair share of tragedy in his life, and he didn't deserve this. It was all she could do to even keep her sanity at the moment, so she just kept putting one foot in front of the other, breathing in and breathing out.

"She's not out to kill Chase," House said, but he still had that glaze of intense anger over his eyes. "He's merely the means to get what she wants out of the BAU and Dr. Reid. It all depends on if she loses control of herself. Speaking of dying, Foreman, go run a blood gas analysis on Dr. Reid and start the Sodium-Bicarbonate drip for anti-depressant toxicity. And tell me when he wakes up so I can explain the coma to him."

"You want to explain it to him?" Foreman asked, incredulous.

"Just do it," House said, shooing him out of the room with his hands.

Foreman shook his head in bewilderment, giving Cameron's shoulder a squeeze before exiting. He'd hardly spoken unless they were doing a differential since Chase had been kidnapped, and Cameron knew him well enough to know that this was a sign that he was immensely worried. Foreman left, leaving House and Cameron alone.

"What do you want me to do?" Cameron asked. "Should I go check on…"

"Make some coffee," House said. "And then sit down and drink it. I told you to go home in the first place."

"I _need_ to be here," she protested. "So that…"

"So that you can know the moment something happens," House cut in. "Yes, I know. But you're also trying to distract yourself from the fact that your husband is missing, that he could possibly die."

"Like you aren't doing the same thing!" Cameron shot back. "You think you're the master of evasion, but your anger makes it really obvious that you're worried about Chase too. You always look for distractions from your emotions."

"And as you are always so delighted to point out, you are not as emotionally unhealthy as me," House said, unflinching at her angry tone. "So quit acting like it."

"You sound like Wilson when he's lecturing you," Cameron said, crossing her arms over chest, a smug expression on her face.

"Bite your tongue," he said in reply. "And go make the coffee."

"I'm going with you to talk to Dr. Reid when he wakes up," she said.

"I think I'm experienced enough to do that myself, thanks Mom," he said sarcastically. "I don't need an escort."

"I'm not doing it for you, I'm doing it for Dr. Reid," Cameron replied pulling her hair back out of her face with a clip. "Your bedside manner isn't exactly stellar, and if Robert were here, he would insist on going."

House's reply was cut off by a knock on the glass and Agent Morgan popping his head inside.

"Come with me," he said, and at the look on his face, Cameron's heart started racing, adrenaline flooding her veins. Was it a breakthrough at last? "She's been poisoning Reid's medication from the pharmacy, and she took the place of one of new interns. We just might have a lead."

* * *

><p>Kelly kicked the door open with such force that it banged off the wall and back again, shocking Chase from his near-unconscious state. He looked up and saw a blazing fury in her eyes so intense that his body automatically tensed up.<p>

"Your friends have grown clever," she hissed, slamming the door closed behind her. "They've somehow managed to figure out that I'd been slipping the atropine into Dr. Reid's medications from the pharmacy, and that I'd taken on Samantha Rogers' appearance. Damn cops and FBI agents swarming the hospital and my new face is plastered all over the news."

Chase didn't reply but merely gazed at the floor, keeping Kelly in his peripheral, the wound on his abdomen burning with pain.

"Nothing to say, Dr. Chase?" she asked, practically spitting venom. "No cry of 'I told you so' no shouts of victory at how _brilliant_ your team and the BAU are? Where has that charming fighting spirit gone?"

When he still refused to answer, he felt her seize him by his tattered shirt collar, pulling so hard the metal of the shackles dug into his skin.

"I said, do you have anything to say?" she asked again, her face mere inches from his own.

"I…I don't," he answered, feeling his heartbeat growing rapid, his skin growing clammy. If something didn't happen, if someone didn't find him soon, he was going to go into shock…he was possibly going to die. "I don't have anything to say."

"The pawn has learned his lesson I see," she said, throwing him back against the wall. "It doesn't matter that they've found me out. Once I change my appearance again they won't know how to recognize me, and the other part of my plan is already formulated. Although I'm afraid, Dr. Chase, that you will have to pay most dearly for what your friends have discovered. And if something doesn't change…you may have to die."

Her words were dripping and sticky with pleasure, and Chase felt the blood run cold in his veins as she knelt in front of him and grabbed his chin with her hand, forcing him to look at her.

"Oh yes, you _will_ know pain," she said, her lips curling in a smirk. "Dr. Reid is already in a great deal of pain, so I've been able to gather, and his mind, so Agent Hotchner intimated, is quite…unstable. Once I've got my hands on him..." She trailed off, her mind dancing with no doubt sickening thoughts, before continuing on. "And don't look so fretful about dying…I haven't decided whether or not I'm going to kill you, I said it was simply looking like I might have to go down that route to get what I want from the BAU."

Chase closed his eyes, and she seized his face so hard it felt like she might break his jaw.

"Keep those beautiful eyes open, Dr. Chase," she cooed. "No one is coming to save you, don't you see? They'll never find you unless I see fit to return you. And if it turns out I have to kill you, you'll die alone and in pain, all because they won't hand Dr. Reid over to me. I'll get him in the end anyway, they're just making it more difficult for me, so you will have died in vain." She let go of his face and stroked his cheek, causing shivers to run down his spine. "You'll never see your precious Allison again, never see the charming Dr. House again, never see any of your friends…"

Chase felt tears of exhaustion, pain, and emotion spring to his eyes, and despite his attempts to hold them back, they slipped out, causing Kelly to grin so widely that it reached her eyes.

"Oh, is poor little Robbie scared?" she asked, stroking his hair in a way that his mother used to when he was a child, making a mockery of that affectionate act.

"I'm not," he protested, although he hardly possessed the energy to fight back anymore. "You don't…you don't scare me."

"Your trembling anytime I come near indicates otherwise," Kelly said, sitting down on the floor. "But before we get started, I do believe I have one more story to tell you about Dr. Reid. And when I finally get my hands on him, I'll make sure to remind him of it…"

"_Thanks for the emergency ice-cream," Kelly said as she and Spencer walked back from the student union. "That's always a pick me up."_

"_You're welcome," Spencer responded, still picking at his chocolate chip cookie dough. "I figured with what's happened, and everything…" he trailed off, seemingly not knowing what the appropriate words were in this situation._

"_You saying my parents died won't set me off," Kelly said. "Feel free to mention it directly."_

"_Okay, I'm sorry," Spencer said, looking relieved. "I just didn't want to upset you. I just feel awful that it happened like that, and when you were home too."_

"_I know," Kelly said, looking down and feigning sadness as she walked, kicking the pebbles in front of her in order to avoid looking at her companion for fear that he would see the satisfied grin slipping onto her face. Indeed if she hadn't been home, her parents would still be alive. Funny, how easy it was to rig the brakes in a car. "It was pretty hard."_

"_And you don't have any siblings, right?" he asked. "Just you?"_

"_Just me," she answered, inching closer to him as they walked, noticing his body stiffen in an uncomfortable response. He was always unnerved by her advances, yet his empathy for her loneliness always kept him around, occasionally asking if she wanted to go get an ice-cream or go to an event on campus, and she convinced a couple of times to go to a movie. His big heart was his weakness, and it was how she planned to trap him into doing what she wanted. "So I heard you won that award to go to the big Engineering conference in DC." It was the conference she'd wanted to go to for ages, and the jealousy within her flared, red-hot. Her project had been the best, of that much she was certain._

"_Oh, yeah I did," Spencer said, blushing slightly in humility, yet excitement gleamed in his eyes. "I worked day and night on that project, and I'm eager to go hear all the speakers. I could really learn a lot."_

"_You'll have to tell me all about it," Kelly said, coming to a stop outside her apartment building. Ever the gentleman, he had insisted on walking her home since it was late._

"_Oh I will!" he exclaimed. "I can even make copies of my notes for you, if you want." He was seventeen, brilliant, and self-sufficient, but Spencer still embraced new possibilities in life with the enthusiasm of a child. There was something…charming about it, Kelly had decided, but it could also irritate her to no end. She'd given him every sign, every signal that she wanted more than friendship from him, and yet he hadn't responded._

_They reached her door, but she didn't pull out her keys._

"_Thanks for trying to cheer me up," she said, hoping the melancholy in her voice sounded genuine._

"_No problem," Spencer replied, smiling as he turned to go. "Get some sleep."_

_But he hadn't even had the chance to take his first step when she seized the lapels of his jacket and placed her lips on his own, kissing him with fervor. Shocked, Spencer stood frozen like Han Solo in carbonate, allowing her to kiss him without returning the gesture. He recovered, jerking back and putting a careful hand on Kelly's shoulder._

"_Kelly, I don't…"_

"_What!" she yelled, pushing his hand away. "I'm not smart enough for you? Not beautiful enough?"_

"_No, that's not it," Spencer said, shaking his head and looking more awkward than she'd ever seen him. "I enjoy being friends with you, but I just don't want that kind of relationship right now."_

"_Not with me, you mean," she said, putting her face very close to his. "I saw you talking to Elizabeth Marks the other day and making eyes at her."_

"_Elizabeth is my friend Ethan's girlfriend," Spencer said. "We're partners for a project. And right now with school and my Mom's sickness," he said, and Kelly noticed he avoided specifying said sickness once again. "I don't have time to devote to a girlfriend, even though I wish I did."_

"_What exactly is this mysterious sickness your mother has?" Kelly questioned, her voice rising. "Or are you just lying?"_

"_Kelly, why are you so…"_

"_What sickness, Spencer?" she asked again, and she noticed he almost looked afraid that she might deck him. _

"_I really don't feel at ease talking about it," Spencer replied firmly, determination in his eyes. "Ethan is the only one at Cal-Tech who knows, and I'm not ready to tell anyone else yet."_

"_Of course you're not," she seethed. "First you reject me, and then you won't tell me one little thing about your life."_

"_Can't we just be friends?" he asked, trying to calm her down. _

"_Your ever so polite way of telling me you aren't attracted to me," Kelly spat. "You'll never find someone else who can keep up with your intellect or put up with your nerdy hobbies. What other girl could possibly like a guy like __**you**__?" This she knew, preyed on his self-confidence issues, but it didn't have the effect on him that she'd planned for._

"_Just because I don't feel the same way," Spencer said, the kindness in his tone making her furious. The hurt at her last comment was obvious in his expression, but he was still being infuriatingly nice. "It doesn't mean we can't still be friends."_

"_It does!" she roared. "I don't want to be your pity friend. Then, I don't suppose any girl is good enough for __**genius**__ Spencer Reid to date."_

"_That isn't true at all," he protested. "I…"_

"_Get the hell off my porch Spencer!" she shouted, pushing at his chest with her hand. "And don't come back." Venom laced every syllable. _

_He furrowed his eyebrows and his mouth formed a thin line, the first sign of anger flitting onto his features as he walked away, yet guilt was still mixed within, leaving Kelly on the doorstep practically breathless with hatred._

"He was always outdoing me in the classroom and then he rejected me," Kelly said, pushing Chase's body roughly to the floor, causing the shackles to pull agonizingly at his skin. She straddled his mid-section, knees hugging his hips as she half knelt. "He went off to become a well-known academic writer and an FBI agent in one of the most elite units. That could have been me, but he stole my spotlight. He was _always_ stealing my spotlight."

Chase felt his heart pound dangerously fast with every word she spoke, bit his lip against the cry of pain that so desperately wanted to emerge. He watched as she pulled out the knife, and he knew this could be it for him. He thought of Allison, and House, and Foreman, of his friends from surgery, of everyone he'd gotten to know at Princeton-Plainsboro. He thought of his best friend Andrew and all his mates in Australia, he thought of his mother and his father. He heard Allison's sobs in his head when she received the news that he was dead, saw her face crumple as she fell to the floor, losing a husband once again. He vowed to hold on, if only to avoid giving her that fate, grasping onto the picture of her luminous smile on their wedding day, of her showing up all that time ago on his doorstep, telling him that it was Tuesday and that she didn't feel like waiting.

"Oh, I'm not going to kill you just yet, Dr. Chase," Kelly said, breaking into his reverie. "But this is going to be incredibly painful, I'm afraid. If you die later of the injuries because no one can find you, well then, that would be unfortunate. I'll do my best to prevent it, since you are my very important leverage."

"You won't…you won't win in the end," Chase choked out. "Even if I die, it won't mean you've won. Justice…"

"Justice?" she said, cutting him off with laughter in her voice. "Oh Dr. Chase, you should let go of that sad little dream. Justice doesn't exist. And sometimes, evil does prevail." As she spoke, she grabbed hold of the small golden crucifix he often wore on a chain tucked under his shirt and ripped it off his neck, sending it flying across the room. "Not even your God will save you from me."

His eyes widened in unchecked terror as she ripped his shirt open, buttons scattering everywhere and leaving his chest bare as she pulled out the knife, her grin making his stomach churn.

And then all he felt was white hot pain.


	13. Variation 12

Variation on a Theme

A Criminal Minds/House, M.D. Crossover

Chapter 13: Variation 12

"_When you feel like your breaking down/And ya, your body's just giving in/And ya, you can't go on broken like this, any longer/Close your eyes, don't you cry/Let the sorrow within you subside/Don't despair, have no fear/Give your way to me when you hear, this lullaby." ~ Lullaby (Emmy Rossum)_

Reid had never felt groggier in his entire life. He opened his eyes halfway, the dim light still bothering them. He looked to his right, seeing Gideon and JJ sitting beside his bed. His eyes roved to the other side of the room, where he saw Dr. House and Dr. Cameron standing; it appeared that Dr. Cameron was whispering something to House, but her voice was so low that he couldn't make it out. His whole body ached, his head felt like it was being stabbed with needles, and exhaustion flowed through every ounce of his system, making him feel heavy. His heart still felt like it was beating too quickly. He opened his eyes the rest of the way and rustled in the sheets, catching everyone's attention.

"Hey Spence," JJ whispered, getting up from her seat and coming to stand by the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Not…not so great," he admitted, wincing slightly. "What…what happened?"

JJ paused, looking hesitant, but spoke nevertheless.

"You were hallucinating," she said. "And your heart was causing trouble, and you were in a great deal of pain."

Reid felt his breath catch in his throat, his eyes widening in apprehension.

"I didn't let them administer any narcotics," JJ said, realizing what was bothering him. "I stepped in as your medical proxy."

Reid nodded, taking in the information. He knew he could trust JJ absolutely, but knowing that the psychological effects of whatever toxin was plaguing his body were preventing from making his own decisions still bothered him.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, his eyes flitting over to House for a moment, surprised that he had yet to speak up. "What…what's happening with the case? With Dr. Chase?"

"Kelly kidnapped an intern and changed her appearance accordingly," Gideon said, looking more worried than Reid had ever seen him. "Hotch and Dr. House ascertained that she was poisoning your medication from the pharmacy, which is where the rest of the team is now. She called again, and said that Dr. Chase is still alive."

Reid glanced over at the unfamiliar IV hanging next to him, and as he did so, House spoke up.

"Don't worry boy genius, that one's all clear, we checked," he said, stepping closer. "It's a sodium bicarbonate drip for anti-depressant poisoning."

"That would be easy enough for her to get her hands on," Reid said, squinting at the pain in his head, starting to feel as if his whole body was burning up.

"Because you won't accept the narcotics," House continued, sitting in one of the empty chairs now, and Reid noticed Cameron was watching him carefully. "We're going to put you in a medically induced coma for the pain, because until this is figured out, it's only going to get worse." The sarcasm, the mocking, was entirely gone from House's voice, and his expression was incredibly serious, the creases in his forehead pronounced as he frowned. House squinted as he looked at him, and behind the windows of his eyes Reid could practically see the ideas running lightning speed circles around his brain.

At this, Cameron stepped in, and as Reid looked at her he felt dizziness threaten him. He knew without anyone saying so that he might not wake up from the coma, and as many times as death had taunted him, he still didn't feel ready. He closed his eyes and breathed in, calming himself.

"We're going to let all of your team come in first," Cameron said softly, attempting a smile. "You just let me know when you're ready."

Reid smiled weakly in return, unceasingly grateful for her kindness in a time when all she likely felt like doing was breaking down under the strain. The skin under her eyes was puffy and purple, speaking to her lack of sleep. Reid found that he couldn't quite look at JJ and Gideon, and instead looked to House as he spoke again.

"You haven't lied to me, so I'm not going to lie to you," he said, his eyes meeting Reid's with an odd kind of intensity. "I'm the best there is at finding the answers that other doctors can't, but if I'm not right soon, there's a good chance you might not wake up from this coma."

He looked away, and it was this admission that he could be wrong that hit Reid the hardest, feeling very much as if someone had slammed a sledgehammer into his chest. House had been nothing short of absolutely sure of himself during this entire ordeal, some people might have even called it arrogance, and this honesty was disconcerting. Reid glanced over at JJ and Gideon.

"Are we any closer to finding her?" he asked.

"We're getting closer," JJ said, looking suspiciously close to tears. Reid watched as she took a deep breath, one of her usual tactics that helped her relax. "She started spiraling during the last call, and Garcia found out that her father taught at Princeton, so Prentiss is over there now, looking for any possible old addresses or information. Rossi had her look into murders around the Northern Virginia area, and it turns out there were five unsolved murders with a matching victimology; all were male students, two in undergraduate programs and three in doctoral programs, students that all had similar physical features to yours. They also studied in the same fields you have your degrees in: one in Psychology, one in Sociology, one in Engineering, one in Chemistry, and one in Mathematics."

Reid nodded again, urging her to go on even as he felt his stomach turning inside out. Kelly had been killing surrogates for months, surrogates that represented him…five young men had lost their lives, and even though rationally he knew it was utterly ridiculous to blame himself, he still felt guilty.

"Morgan also hypothesized that her parents' deaths might have been her first murder, and that her changing appearances aren't done arbitrarily; they're significant, which makes it easier to find her. We've got two different sketches of her to the press," JJ continued. "And Hotch also thinks she has severe borderline personality disorder, so we're checking for releases from institutions, but you know how difficult it is to find those kinds of records. But there's momentum going," she assured him. "We've got leads."

Silence fell, and Reid felt JJ grasp his hand. He squeezed back, watching as Gideon gazed at him continuously, his eyes oddly red. Gideon had never once cried in front of them, not even when Frank had murdered Sarah, and he was desperately fighting it off now.

"We'll give you a bit," House said, rising from his chair. "Just let Cameron know when you're ready." He looked at Reid again with that intense stare, and Reid knew that House felt as if Dr. Chase's and his own fate were intertwined, just as he did. "I'll give this medication some time to run its course, and if it has no effect, I'll look for other diagnoses."

With that he was gone, the clunk of his cane echoing in the quiet.

"I'll be just outside near the nurses' desk," Cameron said, glancing back at them with an immense sadness in her eyes even as she tried to maintain her composure, the pain of Chase's absence flickering within them. "But please take your time."

Reid felt JJ's hand squeeze his own again, pulling him gently back into focus. He smiled at his friends even as unbidden fear swept through in a nauseating wave.

"I'll go get the rest of the team," Gideon started to say.

"No, they're finally making some headway, they don't need to be bothered," Reid protested, his eyes closing for a fleeting moment as pain ripped at him. He regretted his words instantly; he wanted to see his team, the people who were his friends and had become his family, but he also wanted them to keep working on the case, for both his and Dr. Chase's sake.

For all their sakes.

He thought suddenly of his mother, and suddenly the pangs of missing her grew stronger.

"It will only take a moment," Gideon said, and his tone left no room for argument. "And they want to be here."

"Prentiss just messaged me, saying that the Princeton records office needs an hour or two to search the records," JJ said. "We've given the profile to the police, we've alerted the press, and we've got the various local PD's in Virginia sending those five murder case files to Garcia. As much as we hate it, it's going to be a waiting game for the next few hours."

Reid looked at each of them in turn and knew they were right. He settled deeper into the pillows, waiting for a future of which he had lost complete control.

* * *

><p>Hotch was the first one inside Reid's room.<p>

Reid watched with an inquisitive expression as his long-time boss took a seat, an uncharacteristic sheen glossing his dark eyes.

"Hey Hotch," Reid said, sitting up a little.

"You don't have to do that," Hotch said, putting out a hand to stop him.

"I'm fine," Reid evaded, even though both men knew it couldn't be further from the truth.

"We'll find Kelly," Hotch said, his voice wavering ever so slightly. "I'm sorry we haven't found her already."

Unchecked guilt flooded his voice, but he maintained a steady eye-contact with his young colleague. His friend. Memories of Reid's first day at the BAU imprinted themselves in his brain. He remembered Gideon approaching with the young man, who had waved at him in the fashion to which Hotch had now grown accustomed, then put out his hand as if he had just realized it was good manners to shake it in greeting. He marveled at how many killers had been caught because Reid was part of the team, marveled at how much his confidence had grown, how comfortable he had grown with himself and the team, how the boy had evolved into the man sitting before him, still brilliant, still selfless, stronger than ever. He had his ghosts of course, as they all did, but he didn't let them define where he was going.

"It isn't your fault Hotch," Reid whispered, shooting a reassuring half-smile his way. "You're doing everything you can."

"I always seem to get you in trouble," Hotch said, hand moving to grasp the edge of the bed. There was the ghost of a joke in his tone, mixing with the usual austerity. "You've been kidnapped, held hostage multiple times, shot, poisoned with anthrax…"

"I have a knack for trouble," Reid chuckled. "Not your fault, though, definitely not your fault. It's the job Hotch, we're always at risk. But it's worth it. And anyway, I met Kelly before I ever joined the BAU…this is an old grudge I never could have seen coming. You've got to stop blaming yourself."

"I'll work on that," Hotch said, a small smile sliding onto his face. Before he quite knew what he was doing, he found his hand laying itself lightly on Reid's arm. "You're invaluable to this team…"

"Hotch…"

"Let me finish," Hotch commanded, not to be argued with even now. "You're invaluable to this team not only because of what we do, but because of who we are: a family…" He breathed in and out quickly, the sound of the air exiting his nose audible in the quiet room. "Of which you are an irreplaceable part. I need you to know that. And…" his voice failed him for a split second. "You mean a great deal to me personally. I don't tell any of you that enough."

"You don't need to say it," Reid said warmly. "We all know."

* * *

><p>Prentiss came in next.<p>

She watched Reid carefully, profiling him out of instinct. He looked wearier than she'd ever seen him, and although he tried to shield it, she saw the pain and the hint of fear buried beneath. True to form, Reid tried to hide his own distress for the sake of others around him even now. On some occasions Reid would come to one of them to unburden himself, but this was rare; usually it took a direct one-on-one confrontation to get him to divulge his anxieties.

"Hey there," she said, her own brand of affection in every syllable. She sat down and pulled the chair closer, noticing his eyes were searching her face. "Done being sick yet?

"Trying to be," Reid said, a small chuckle sneaking into his voice.

A marked silence stood between them for a few moments, the gravity of the situation physically present in the room.

"Hey Emily?" Reid asked, breaking through the wall.

"Hey Reid?" she said, light teasing in her tone, but also a very strong sincerity.

"What if I…what if I don't…"

"No chance, kid," she said interrupting him firmly. "You know how they say virgins never die?"

"Emily!" Reid exclaimed, blushing. "I'm not a…"

"The same goes for geniuses," she said, unable to resist grinning at her friend.

Reid rolled his eyes good-naturedly and shook his head in response, unconsciously wrapping the blanket tighter around his legs.

"What?" she replied, raising her eyebrows. "You don't believe me?"

"Not really, no," Reid answered.

"Well," Emily scoffed. "Shows how much _you_ know."

Prentiss watched as a real smile slipped onto his face at her attempts to cheer him up, and she found that seeing it now brightened the dark edges that were starting to cave in on her as the thought of losing him permeated her soul. His smile had always possessed the ability to lift her spirits; it was always genuine and always a little awkward, lighting up his brown eyes with an almost childlike gleam as his lips curved slowly upwards.

It was so unmistakably Reid.

His intellect and his circumstances had forced him to grow up incredibly quickly, and he was unquestionably mature beyond his years. Yet there was an inherent innocence to him, something that spoke to his belief in the good of humanity despite the job they did, despite the statistics he'd memorized, despite the horrors he'd seen and experienced. Emily hesitantly put her hand out, unsure how Reid might react to the gesture. He took in it an instant, and in that moment Prentiss knew just how painful it would be to lose her friend, the friend who had become every bit a little brother to her, the friend who would always listen without judgment, always ready to lend an ear. He was also her immensely respected colleague, who had stood by her side out in the field too many times to count. She flashed back to the Cyrus incident, remembered the terror that flooded her as the man had put a gun to Reid's head, heard her own voice speaking out to say that she was the FBI agent, saw herself sitting across from Reid on the plane, taking both of his hands and telling him the beating had not been his fault in any way. She heartily wished none of this had happened, wished that the two of them were back at the BAU and ganging up on Morgan to tease him about his latest date as they headed toward the elevator to grab some dinner together.

"We'll get her Reid," she whispered. "And she won't know what's hit her when we do. Morgan will just have to wait in line behind me while I give her a piece of my mind."

"I certainly wouldn't want to be on your bad side," Reid joked. "Or on the other side of your gun, for that matter."

Prentiss felt herself grin as she grasped his hand a little tighter.

"And you'll be just fine," she continued, praying to God she was right. "Trust me."

* * *

><p>Rossi was third.<p>

"Well kiddo," he said, sitting down in his ever pristine Italian clothing. "How're you feeling?"

"You know," Reid responded. "I've been better. I don't know if there's any Italian in my gene pool, but I think I might just have the stuff to get through this."

He attempted a cheeky grin at the indulgent father of their little family, and David Rossi returned it, feeling a familiar pride spread through him at the sight of his young colleague.

He'd found Reid incredibly odd at first, had wondered if the young man saw with his arrival a replacement for Jason Gideon, whom, he had learned, had long been Reid's mentor. But Rossi had quickly realized that no one would replace the absent Gideon, nor did any of them expect him to, and after some adjustment he found his place within the team and started cultivating relationships with each of them. He'd grown fascinated with Reid's intellect, and soon learned that the younger man was no slouch in the field; he'd heard stories from Hotch about how determined Reid had been in the early years to improve his shooting, and his quick thinking was irreplaceable in the sticky situations in which they often found themselves. It had soon become clear to Rossi that Reid was immensely devoted to his job and to the people he cared about; there wassomething immensely endearing about the BAU's youngest agent.

"If anyone's got the stuff, you certainly do," Rossi said, leaning back slightly in his perch to survey Reid, feeling his body tense slightly at how much thinner he seemed, despite the fact that he was already immensely skinny.

A large part of him wanted to tell Reid that his parents were on the way, but Dr. House had stood vehemently against it, citing that the stress wouldn't be good for Reid, and had then promptly kicked them out of his office while he continued to think, throwing a giant tennis ball up against the wall as he worked. William Reid had purchased two plane tickets, and after JJ had worked out the details with Bennington, he had picked up Diana along with specific instructions from her doctor.

"You know kiddo," Rossi continued. "You don't have to be strong for us right now."

"I know," Reid said, but he didn't sound wholly convinced.

Rossi felt worry punch him in the gut as Reid spoke, and found himself inching the chair closer to the bed, wishing he could take Reid's place; it wasn't fair to him that a young man with such talent, such brains, and such kindness, should die, while he, a man who was many years older, might continue on until he was ninety without a hitch.

"I won't let this girl get ahead of us anymore," Rossi said seriously. "I promise you that. She may have gotten a head start, but we're catching up quicker than she realizes. We'll take care of this, and then we'll get back to Quantico with you in one piece. Although you shouldn't be surprised if we all take turns staying with you for a week. We're a smidge overprotective."

This drew a laugh from Reid, and Rossi felt the sound lift his heart a bit in the center of the dreariest wing in the hospital, this wing that was filled with so much death. But Rossi was a man who was unable to give up hope, and Reid had pulled through before in uncertain circumstances.

"I think I'd be okay with that," Reid said, catching Rossi's eye with a soft smile. "It would help you guys worry less about me."

"Trust me Reid," Rossi said. "No matter how old you get I don't think we'll ever stop doing that."

* * *

><p>Garcia didn't practically crawl into the bed with Reid…she actually did.<p>

"Garcia," Reid said, protested meekly, raising his eyebrows as he spoke. "I don't think that's allowed…"

"You should know me well enough to realize I don't care about rules, sweet cheeks," she replied. "Now scoot over."

Reid did as requested, knowing better than to argue. Garcia pushed over the blankets and covered Reid with them, noticing that he was shivering, and sat on top of the sheets. Reid sat up and turned to face her, and she instantly took both of his hands in hers.

"I'm not going to be able to keep myself in check like the others," she said, a marked honesty in her tone. "I don't roll that way."

"I don't want you to," Reid answered, utterly genuine. "It wouldn't be you if you did."

Garcia felt the tears well in her eyes, felt them fall down her face one by one. She knew she should try to stop for Reid's sake, but she found she couldn't, and the expression in his eyes told her it was alright. Indeed, without speaking he seemed to tell her that it was a relief to see her candid tears, while the rest of the team tried so desperately to keep theirs at bay in order to reassure him.

"You're made of strong stuff, boy wonder," she said, a smile breaking through her melancholy. "You're far too awesome to go just yet. You'll make it through this."

"I hope so," Reid said, meeting her gaze with a determined smile of his own. "And you have that message for my Mom?"

"I do," Garcia said, hearing the tremble in her own voice as she spoke of the recording Reid had asked her to make yesterday after he couldn't get his mother on the phone. "I already made three different copies of it. But she's not going to need it."

"Maybe not," Reid said noncommittally, and Garcia hated to see the hope receding from his eyes.

She took his chin gently in her hands, forcing him to look at her.

"You listen to me Spencer Reid," she said. "You will not give up on this team. You will not give up on yourself. And most importantly, you will not give up on me. I can't be the only super braniac around. Do you hear me?"

She looked into Reid's eyes again, and for the first time since this entire ordeal began, there were tears swimming within them. He ran his hand over his face in an effort to hide them, but Garcia seized it carefully and held his wrist.

"I'm sorry," Reid whispered, and she could hear the fight against the emotion in his voice.

"There is nothing for you to be sorry for," she replied, letting go of his wrist and bringing her hand to his face. "And it's okay for you to cry…this is a frightening situation, my love."

Reid shook his head as if to argue, but even as he did she felt his cheek lean into her hand out of pure exhaustion, the stray tears running over her fingers. Garcia's memory flashed to the vision of Reid sitting before her on the computer screen, being beaten within an inch of his life by Tobias Hankel then convulsing and dying on the floor, flashed to his pained coughs over the phone when he'd contracted anthrax, both still as real and vivid as if they'd happened yesterday. She hadn't been able to comfort him during either of those incidents, but this time it was different. This time, she was here with him. He stiffened slightly as she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, but relaxed after a few moments, closing his eyes and remaining silent, letting her voice wash over him.

"You always try to be so strong for everyone, even when you're in trouble, or you're sick, or if something's bothering you," she said, starting to rub a hand up and down his back. "I know you're used to taking care of other people because of what happened with your Mom, but right now you need to let us take care of you."

"I'll try," Reid finally said, his voice muffled against her shoulder. He pulled back, wincing in pain, and she let go, helping him lay back against the pillows.

"See?" she said, smoothing the covers. "Just like that."

He looked up at her again, and saw in his eyes all the memories that were coming in a deluge through her mind: she remembered all of Reid's exuberant Halloween celebrations in which she'd enthusiastically taken part, remembered dragging him for a ride in her convertible after it had been diverted by the Nathan Harris incident, remembered all the times they'd gone out with Morgan and Prentiss and JJ, remembered him admitting his mother's condition to her, remembered his many impromptu visits to her office, remembered how he'd stayed by her beside, along with Morgan, when she'd been shot, remembered the Dr. Who marathon they once watched together, and their many nerd-culture conversations. She suddenly wished she could find some obscure topic and get him to tell her everything there was to know.

"I'll be alright Garcia," he said softly, a small, so very Reid-like smile on his face.

It was this, more than anything, that made Penelope Garcia want to break down. He was still trying to reassure her, and she found that she couldn't bear to imagine a world without this friend who had taken up a permanent residence in her heart. Without him, a gaping hole would be left in their little family, and there would nothing they could do to mend that hole.

"You'd better be," she said, taking his hand again and hanging on as if for dear life. "Because we'd be a mess without you."

* * *

><p>Gideon came in next.<p>

"There's not much of a point in asking how you're feeling, is there?" Gideon questioned, sitting down in the chair at Reid's bedside. "My guess is you feel pretty bad, and that everyone else has already asked the same question."

"That would be a fair assessment," Reid answered, and seeing him squint against the light, Gideon switched off the lamp beside them, the room now bathed in the weakening rays of the setting sun.

"I'm so sorry Spencer," Gideon suddenly said, feeling the torrent of emotion battering him like a storm batters a ship at sea. "I'm sorry for leaving the way I did. You didn't deserve that."

"It's okay," Reid said, looking a bit bewildered. "You already apologized for that."

Silence fell between them, and Gideon breathed in, mentally telling himself to remain calm, to save his overwhelming feelings for a time when he could be alone, for a time when they wouldn't cause Reid further distress, but it proved difficult to keep them at bay.

"I saw a light, you know," Reid said, breaking the quiet. "That night in Tobias Hankel's cabin."

"A light?" Gideon questioned, nonplussed, although he had an inkling of where this was headed. "What do you mean?"

"When I died," Reid said bluntly, taking Gideon by surprise. "I saw a light spread out around me, I felt a warmth soak through my entire person. I've never…I've never been able to quite make sense of it."

"Do you think you saw a glimpse of the afterlife?" Gideon asked, going along with the line of conversation even if he felt it might shatter whatever was left of him. He'd seen just what the human race was capable of during his years at the BAU, had seen horrors that he'd never forget, but he had managed to still see at least a glimpse of humanity's beauty, of its capability to do good in the world. But losing Reid, losing him to this most senseless of vendettas, threatened to send him to a place much darker than even the months after Adrian Bale and the bomb that killed six FBI agents. The happiness he'd only so recently achieved was teetering on the edge of the windowsill.

"Sometimes I think I did," Reid continued, eyebrows furrowed. "Sometimes I think it was just my imagination, some trick of the mind." He looked up at Gideon. "Do you believe in the afterlife?"

"I do," Gideon said simply. "I don't know that it's a concept humans can fully wrap their minds around, and I don't know if any religion has it completely correct, but I do believe that something exists beyond this world, even if I don't know what it is."

"I've never been certain how I felt about it," Reid admitted. "But even most scientists will tell you that scientific discoveries do not preclude the existence of God, even if there isn't any quantifiable evidence that a deity exists. Although, I suppose, not everything can be quantified. Human feelings can't be quantified…" He was rambling, and Gideon took heart in the familiarity.

"It may have been unconscious," Reid continued, "But I think seeing that light is part of what made me want to study Philosophy. I just, I wanted to make sense of it, and now…now I find myself almost hoping that _is_ what I experienced."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Gideon said, placing a reassuring, affectionate hand on Reid's arm. "Nothing at all. And you should know that if anything lies beyond this, something good awaits you, whether you want to call it Heaven or any other name. I don't have the faith that I used to, but in that, my faith is unwavering."

Reid looked away, his eyes focusing instead on his blankets, his next words twisting agonizingly around Gideon's heart.

"I don't know if I'm ready to see that light again."

"And you may not," Gideon replied ever gentle, hardly able to force words from his lips anymore. "This procedure doesn't mean this is a lost cause, it's simply a way to keep you out of immense pain for the time being."

"I know," Reid said, glancing up again, looking slightly encouraged. "I just want to try and make peace with myself if I don't wake up again."

Reid, Gideon thought, was being more rational about this than any of them, refusing to give up hope but still willing to thoughtfully contemplate the worst.

"You should know," Gideon said, closing his eyes for a moment and steadying himself. "That you're like a son to me. Even after I left, that was still true. It still is."

Gideon watched as Reid's eyes widened slightly, obviously surprised at the openness for which Gideon definitely wasn't known. Gideon had always imagined that Reid knew he felt this way, but saying it aloud was something entirely different.

"After you left," Reid said softly. "I told Prentiss that you leaving made me feel just like I had when my father left. Maybe even worse." Gideon expected there to be a frown on his face when he looked up, but was surprised to find the hint of a smile, a smile which said that Reid had always looked to him as a father-figure. "And I'm glad…I'm _very_ glad you came."

"Me too, kiddo," Gideon whispered, reaching out to bestow upon Reid one of his very rare embraces. "Me too."

* * *

><p>JJ was second to last.<p>

She slid the door noiselessly behind her and took a seat on the edge of Reid's bed, feet resting on the metal bars beneath.

She brushed a strand of hair away from Reid's face with a shaking hand, feeling hot tears drip down her face but wiping them quickly away so that Reid wouldn't see. He was her trusted colleague, her son's godfather, and one of the best friends she'd ever had. As the two youngest on the team they'd bonded instantly, and she never hesitated to tell him her secrets. Yet here she was, possibly bidding him goodbye.

"It's going to be okay Spence," she whispered, grasping his hand tightly. "It will."

His eyes flickered up to her, a weak smile slipping onto his face, squeezing her hand in return.

"Yeah," he replied, closing his eyes for a moment against the rush of pain in his head. "I always pull through, don't I?" he joked. Don't worry, okay?"

"Don't know if I can help that," JJ answered, unable to stop the tears from springing to her eyes now. "You know that I love you, right? That you're a part of my family? That we're all your family?"

"I know," he said, holding her hand tighter, a silent acknowledgment that he loved her too. "If…" he stumbled a bit over his words, eyes burning from the tears that threatened him, the tears the he wanted to hold back for JJ's sake. "Make sure you read to Henry for me if this doesn't end well, all those children's books I suggested, then Dickens and Wilde and Proust for when he's older."

This simple statement was a thank you for the honor of being Henry's godfather and a token of his affection all in one; Diana Reid had read to Spencer since he could remember having memories, and every time he went to JJ's for dinner, she would inevitably find him in Henry's room, the now one-year old baby perched on his skinny frame, a book in hand, Henry's chubby arms wrapped around his godfather's neck with a bright smile on his face.

"I will Spence," JJ breathed, leaning over to plant a soft kiss on Reid's forehead. "I promise."

She looked at her friend, willing his body to heal itself, willing the right diagnoses to take root in House's brilliant mind, willing the puzzle pieces to come together so they could find Kelly. She always clung to hope, but nasty voices in the back of her head told her that she was about to lose her beloved Spence. She remembered Will's heartfelt offer to fly with Henry up to Jersey, declining only because she had the sinking feeling that it would only put them in danger, and knew Reid would have agreed; JJ was not foolish enough to think that Kelly wouldn't hurt anyone connected with Reid, and she was certain there would be an inevitable showdown with the woman. JJ had never been violent, but she found that she very much wanted to strangle the woman who was trying to take Reid away from them.

"You'd better pull through this," JJ said, unable to stop herself from lightly stroking his hair. "No one can make coffee like you. Remember last time Emily tried and none of us could even down the stuff?"

"I'll never tell my secrets," Reid said, the whisper of a laugh in his voice. He paused, searching her face. "Thank you for everything, JJ. Really."

"You're welcome," JJ responded, feeling very much like her heart was about to leap through her chest. "But stop talking like that. You're going to be fine," she reprimanded. "And thank _you_ for everything."

A barrage of Technicolor memories took her mind by storm; she remembered pulling Reid into her arms when they'd finally found him in the ice-cold Georgia woods, remembered the Redskins game he'd taken her to, which had served to cement their already blossoming friendship, remembered his insistence on carrying things and bringing her tea when she'd been pregnant with Henry, remembered the dumbfounded but thrilled look on his face when she'd asked him to be Henry's godfather. They'd always laughed so easily together, and they'd always been able to talk for hours or simply sit in companionable silence.

"Just get some rest, okay Spence?" she said. "We'll be here when you wake up."

With that she turned, finding Morgan waiting in the doorway. She stopped in front of him, her entire body trembling now.

"Derek, I…"

"It's okay JJ," he said, placing both hands on her shoulders briefly, unhindered warmth in his voice. "I've got it."

Morgan slid the door shut behind him, bidding Dr. Cameron to give him a few moments before she came in to put Reid in the medically induced coma he might not wake from. All the team had already had their moment with Reid, but Morgan found it oddly fitting that he was that last one inside. He sat down and pulled the chair as close as possible to the bedside. Reid looked at him, brown eyes intent on the colleague who had become every bit a brother to him. They'd argued, teased, laughed, and shared confidences, unquestioning in their loyalty.

"Hey kid," he said, making an attempt to grin at his friend, although he was rather sure it failed. "How ya feeling?"

"I," Reid began, seeing in Morgan's expression the strength for him to tell the truth. "Not so good. I'm not much for pain, really."

"I don't think anyone is," Morgan replied. "When you're ready, Dr. Cameron is going to come in and put you under. So it…" he willed his voice to remain steady, to keep it from breaking under the strain. "It won't hurt anymore."

Reid nodded. "Not yet, just…I'm not…"

"Take your time kid," Morgan said, hands gripping the metal railing so hard he was surprised it didn't break in two. "It's about you now."

"But you have a case," Reid protested, ever selfless. "You have to find Dr. Chase. He doesn't deserve to die at Kelly's hands just for being my doctor. He's a good man."

"Reid," Morgan reprimanded softly, because there was no way he was letting his friend rush this. "It's okay."

"I couldn't talk to my Mom," Reid whispered a solitary tear tracing its way down his cheek. "I called, but she was having an episode…I couldn't…"

"Garcia recorded a message for you," Morgan tried to reassure him. "I know it's not the same…"

"You have to make sure she gets it," Reid told him, desperation flooding his tone. "And I wrote…I wrote a letter…"

"I'll make sure she gets them," Morgan said, feeling his heart racing so hard he feared it would explode. He wanted to tell Redi that his parents were coming, that they would be here, but that would only make this worse because they weren't here yet, and Dr. House had insisted it be kept a secret. If Reid woke up, he would obviously see his parents then. "I promise you that. I'll fly out to Las Vegas and give them to her myself if this doesn't end the way it should."

"Morgan I'm…" Reid cleared his throat against the tide of oncoming emotion. "I'm scared."

"I know you are," Morgan answered, utter helplessness coursing through his veins. "You have every right to be. But I'm here, Reid. I'm here until you fall asleep."

"I'm… glad you're here," Reid said, struggling to get a deep breath.

"Do you know how brave you are?" Morgan asked, almost unable to master the use of his voice. "You're one of the most courageous people I know. Anybody else who's been through a fraction of the things you've been through would have run and hidden forever, or cracked up. But not you kid. Not you."

Reid gave Morgan a half smile, shaking his head. "I'm not…"

"You are," Morgan said firmly. "You've done more good in your 28 years than other people do in their entire lifetimes. We'll catch whoever this is, and you'll make it. I swear to you."

Morgan felt his eyes stinging, turning briefly to look out the glass to see Hotch standing closest, a single fisted hand resting on the glass, his eyes suspiciously damp. Rossi stood nearby, fury and frustration etched into every line of his face. Prentiss had a sobbing JJ wrapped in her arms, dry, reddened eyes fixed on Reid, her ability to compartmentalize lost. Garcia stood back slightly, tears streaming steadily down her face, and Morgan watched as Gideon took one of her hands gently in his own. Gideon himself stared at the floor, his free hand clenched at his side. The team had seen so much death, so much pain, so much destruction, but this was on a different level entirely. This was _their_ Reid, their youngest, their family.

"You're my brother Spencer Reid," Morgan said. "I need you to know that."

A swirl of memories danced through his head; he remembered Reid sneaking up behind him with a mask on Halloween and making him jump up in his seat, he remembered knocking on his apartment door when he'd connected the dots about the Dilaudid problem, he remembered schooling Reid in an Atlanta club, encouraging him to use his magic tricks to get a girl's number, remembered getting stuck in an elevator and shouting for Hotch to come free them…he remembered Reid's quiet offer to play cards with him on the plane after the case in Chicago, when the team had uncovered his past. Countless memories flooded his mind, a cloud of confusing color.

"Back at you," Reid replied sincerely, pulling Morgan into reality.

A gleam of determination mixed with the fear in his eyes, signaling to his friend that he was ready. Morgan turned and met Dr. Cameron's eye, and she entered. Her countenance was exceedingly pale and it was obvious she hadn't slept for terrified worry over her missing husband, but she still had a smile for Reid.

"This should put you out in just a minute," she said, reaching to insert the syringe into the IV line. "Just relax."

Reid held out an unsure hand and Morgan took it, holding tight.

"Thank you," Reid muttered, eyes already starting to flutter closed.

"Always," Morgan said. "See you when wake up, pretty boy."

Reid nodded against his pillow in understanding, his breathing slower now, his grip on Morgan's hand loosening.

Morgan felt Cameron's hand briefly on his shoulder as Reid slipped into unconsciousness.

Upon letting go of Reid's hand, Derek Morgan found that he was crying, crying as hard as he had the day his father had died when he was nine years old. And ironically when he stepped out the door, it was Gideon's arms he fell into.

A sick, awful quiet had just begun to sink its claws into everyone when four phones rang.

The first was Garcia's, telling her that all the information on the Northern Virginia murders had been sent to her computer.

The second was JJ's, letting her know that William and Diana Reid had arrived at Newark airport.

The third was Princeton, letting Prentiss know that they'd found the records on Kelly's father.

Hotch picked up the fourth call, his normally rapid movements so slow it was as if he'd been coated with molasses, the voice that emanated from the other end heard by everyone, despite the fact that the phone wasn't on speaker.

"Well hello, Agent Hotchner. Do tell me…how's Dr. Reid? I'm afraid Dr. Chase isn't doing so well…"

A/N: Hello readers! Thanks once again to everyone who is reading, alerting, favoriting, and reviewing this story! I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter…it proved quite difficult to write, so I'm hoping it turned out alright. Also, remember that this is NOT a deathfic. I know it sort of might seem like it is at the moment, but I promise it isn't. Please, do let me know what you think! The next chapter will be up soon!


	14. Variation 13

Variation on a Theme

A Criminal Minds/House, M.D. Crossover

A/N: Hello readers! First, I'd just like to thank ALL of you for the wonderful response I got for the last chapter, I was really, truly touched, and I'm so thrilled it was well-received. Thank you so much for continuing to support this story. Here's the next chapter, and I really hope you enjoy, as parts of this proved a bit tricky. Please let me know what you think!

Chapter 14: Variation 13

"_I remember black skies, and lighting all around me/I remembered each flash, as time began to blur/Like a startling sign, that fate had finally found me/But your voice was all I heard, did I get what I deserve?" ~ New Divide (Linkin Park)_

Emily thought that Hotch's voice sounded very far away when he finally spoke, almost as if he was standing at the other end of the hallway rather than directly next to her. He sounded almost robotic, and it was clear he was trying to keep the listless quality of his tone, determined to show Kelly that he was in charge.

"Dr. Reid is fine," Hotch replied, using his free hand to beckon them all into an empty room nearby so that he could put the phone on speaker. He closed the door after they filed in, Dr. Cameron and Dr. Foreman with them. "What have you done to Dr. Chase?"

"Come now Aaron, do you really expect me to answer honestly?" she said. "You aren't being honest about poor little Spencer, why would I be honest about what I've done to Dr. Chase?"

"Because you want to tell us what you've done," Hotch answered, slowly starting to sound like the Hotch Emily knew, but the trauma of what had just happened with Reid was still evident in his expression, as it was with all of them. "You relish in bragging about what you're doing while we search for you."

"On my terms only do I relish it," Kelly said, voice lowering a few octaves in anger. "You discovered my little secret about the pharmacy, I see. But you still don't know what I poisoned the medicine _with_, do you? The world-renowned Dr. House can't figure this one out, and I daresay the clock is ticking."

"What have you done with Samantha Rogers?" Hotch questioned, refusing to give in to her probing.

"If you must know, Dr. Chase is alive," Kelly replied, blatantly ignoring his question. Emily watched as JJ wrapped a snug arm around Cameron's shoulders, while Foreman moved instinctively closer to her, eyebrows furrowed. "Although," she chuckled, sounding unbearably smug. "He has lost quite a bit of blood. I do believe I might have… broken his spirit, as they say."

Emily saw Cameron's mouth open before she spoke, saw her slipping from JJ's grasp, saw the tears glistening in her green eyes.

"How _dare_ you!" she exclaimed, looking very much as if she was going to smack the cell phone out of Hotch's hand. "What kind of monster are you? Give him back to me, please, I'll do _anything_!" She broke into sobs which sounded both furious and desolate, making the rest of her sentence incomprehensible.

Before Hotch could respond or control the sudden outburst that Emily was surprised hadn't happened before, Kelly spoke again, her voice icy with danger.

"You know what I want, Dr. Cameron," she said. "And the BAU refuses to do as I ask."

Cameron looked ready to respond, but at Hotch's glance, JJ gently took her elbow and escorted her from the room.

"So," Kelly continued, acting as if Cameron's outburst had never occurred. "What have you found out about me, Aaron?"

Emily watched as Hotch paused, thinking for a split second before responding. On one hand, probing her too much might put Chase in danger, but on the other, it would also help them find more clues that would lead to both his rescue and Reid's recovery.

"I know that your father was a brilliant man, and that he taught at Princeton," Hotch began, careful with his words and his tone. "And that he was gone more than he was at home, that you suffered through lots of family counseling. That must have been hard on you. If you let us, we could get you the help you need."

"Don't pretend to be sympathetic toward me," Kelly hissed. "I'm smarter than most of the idiots you usually deal with."

"That's why you latched onto Reid," Hotch continued, still calm as he altered his approach slightly. "He embodied all the good qualities of your father, he was an academic, he even looked like a younger version of him, but their rejections were hard on you. You killed your father in that car wreck by rigging the brakes, your mother was just collateral damage to you, and now you want to kill Reid or otherwise force him to succumb to your will to pay for his rejection. He's a surrogate for your father, just like those young men you killed were surrogates for Reid."

Kelly was silent for a solid thirty seconds, and Emily noticed Hotch's frown deepen.

"You think you're _so_ intelligent, don't you Aaron? You don't know the first thing about my oh so _brilliant_ father!" she exclaimed, her voice burning with indignation. "You have no proof I killed my parents…you have no proof I killed those men. And you won't find it. I _will_ win in the end."

Before Hotch could respond, however, House appeared on the other side of the glass, looking perplexed. He entered, opened his mouth to speak, then saw the phone in Hotch's hand and fell silent, looking very much as though doing so was physically painful.

"By the way, _Agent_ Hotchner," Kelly said. She was no longer shouting, but the cold outrage in her voice was as clear as day. "Do you know how easy it is to hack into pharmaceutical records? I do believe Dr. Cuddy had to approve Dr. House's order for…what was it? Propofol? I do believe that's used to put people into medically induced comas."

Emily had only seen Hotch lost for words once, and that had only been for a few seconds when he realized Foyet had lured Haley and Jack into his trap.

This was the second.

"I'm hiding in plain sight," she said, and it was clear she was talking to the entire team now. "Garcia's computers won't find me, pretty little JJ's press conferences won't help, Rossi's and Gideon's years of experience won't be enough, even if Prentiss called in her Interpol connections for a favor, it wouldn't be useful." She paused, and when she spoke, it was almost as if she were physically in the room, turning to stare at Morgan. "And no matter how many walls you punch, Derek, it won't save Spencer from me." She paused a second time, speaking again to Hotch. "And you, Aaron, see saving Dr. Reid as a way to atone for not making it in time to save your ex-wife. It's a pity you'll have to deal with _that_ failure again."

The phone went dead, and Rossi moved first, daring enough to take the phone from Hotch's frozen hand and close it before resting a hand on the unit chief's shoulder. Emily locked eyes with Gideon momentarily, watching as he wiped the dust off the profiling cogs in his brain, which he'd likely never been able to shut off completely. Morgan looked furious, but the pained expression in his eyes spoke to how raw they all felt. Dr. Foreman peered out of the glass as JJ returned with Cameron, having given her a bottle of water and several tissues. Prentiss felt a sudden wave of overpowering nausea at the thought that they really might lose Reid for good, but tried to suppress it, tried desperately to keep her head on straight and pull whatever clues she could from this latest phone call and put it together with what they already knew. But it was Garcia who spoke first.

"I'm getting access from Dr. Cuddy to the hospital's mainframe. I need to figure out how that demon woman got access to those records and prevent it from happening again. And I'm setting up in Reid's room," she said. "All I need is a table and juice for my laptop. Maybe his genius will rub off on me."

"Baby girl," Morgan said. "He isn't…"

"They say sometimes people in comas can still hear you," Garcia interrupted, and she was calmer than she'd been in hours, determined. She looked over at Foreman. "Isn't that true?"

"There's been some evidence that they can, yes," he replied, looking as though he couldn't quite believe all these happenings were real. "Whether it's a trauma induced coma or if it's medically induced.

"I don't want to leave him alone," Garcia continued. "If he can hear us, I don't want him to think we all left him. I couldn't stand it." She turned to Cameron and squeezed one of her hands lightly. "I promise I will do _everything_ in my power to help find your husband. I just need to do it from in there. It won't affect my quality of work…in fact, it will probably make me more productive."

"I'll get you whatever you need," Cameron acquiesced, returning the squeeze. "And tell the nurses not to bother you about it. But the ones in the ICU are usually understanding."

"In any case," House said, eyes momentarily intent on Hotch, as if Kelly's comments about Haley had suddenly made something about the unit chief very clear to him. "The nurses know better than to argue with me about my patients."

"Prentiss," Hotch said, speaking up now. "Did Princeton say you could remove the records temporarily?"

"They did," she replied. "And even if they hadn't, I would have made them see reason. I'll go over there now and bring them back so we can go over them together."

"She's clearly sensitive about her father," Hotch said. "We need to look for places that connect her with him, possibly an old address that is missing from the databases Garcia has searched." He then bid Garcia to open the Northern Virginia murder files and ask Dr. Cuddy to print copies as quickly as possible.

"What did William Reid say?" he asked, turning to JJ.

"He and Diana will be here in an hour," she said, wrenching her eyes from the direction of Reid's room back to Hotch, and Emily found herself reaching for her friend's hand. "He said Diana spoke about five words on the plane."

A pall of solemn silence wrapped itself around the room and all its occupants, thick and suffocating. Emily wished Reid were here to fill it, wished he were here to rattle off statistics, or let her win at cards, to talk about their common love of literature. She felt House's eyes on her as she glanced back in the direction of Reid's room, likely remembering her outburst as she'd stormed into his office and told him the story about the Tobias Hankel incident. Her protective instincts always flared whenever anyone threatened her team, and those instincts rose even higher where Reid was concerned; they'd almost lost him one too many times. _Damn you Spencer Reid,_ she silently cursed. _Do you know what this is doing to us? We're supposed to be objective, we're supposed to keep a clear head, and now all that's been thrown out the window. Do you even know what would happen if we lost you?_

"I know that all of us are worried," Hotch said, breaking through the wall, his voice so unexpected that it nearly made Emily jump. "Because we are in danger of losing people we care about deeply. We're tired and we're frustrated, but in order to save Reid and Dr. Chase, we have to stay focused." His voice had its usual stern quality, but a genuine warmth cut through it, bringing everyone back into the present moment.

"I'll be in my office for a while longer," House said. "But sometimes I think better at home, so in that case, I'll have my cell phone, as Cameron and Foreman are well aware of." He turned to his team, and Emily could tell as he looked at Cameron that arguing with her to go home would be futile. "After I leave, I want updates on his vitals, the treatment, ideas, anything." He then turned to Hotch. "Cameron and Foreman will keep you apprised of the situation, and if something new happens, I'll let you know. If you…" he uncharacteristically stumbled over his words. "If you find any leads on Chase or that bitch, let me know."

Hotch nodded, and there was a moment of unspoken solidarity between the two men who were trying, in their own and very different ways, to save young men who were practically surrogate sons to them, and in turn hoped to keep their teams from crumbling.

* * *

><p>Morgan walked quickly down the hallway toward Reid's room, coffee in hand. He knew he should be getting more sleep, but when he lay down he found that his mind wouldn't shut off. He wondered if that was how Reid felt all the time. The perpetual knot of anxiety twisted in his stomach the closer he got to his comatose friend's room, feeling as if he had very persistent heartburn. Dr. House, Dr. Cameron, and Dr. Foreman had gone back to their conference room to do a differential, and Morgan could only pray an answer would come, because he didn't know what he would do, didn't know what the team would do, if Reid died. The mere thought of it made him want to drop where he stood, and so he tried to push the idea from his mind. Morgan had felt an intense need to protect the kid ever since his first day at the BAU, and that feeling had never ceased, even if Reid had more than proved he could take care of himself. But the truth was, Reid had knack for attracting trouble. One thing was for certain; when he got his hands on this Kelly Sinclair, she would regret the day she first thought of her twisted, sadistic plan. He glanced at his coffee when he reached Reid's room, fervently wishing he could have brought a second cup along. The sliding glass door was cracked open, but Morgan pulled his hand back upon hearing a gentle voice singing on the other side.<p>

A voice that sounded just like Jason Gideon.

The words sounded vaguely familiar to Morgan, and he was startled for a moment at how beautiful Gideon's voice was. He supposed it shouldn't have surprised him; Gideon had an intense love of art and music, often spending hours at the Smithsonian and listening to classical music or old Broadway songs on the ancient record player in his office. He remembered when the entire team had gathered to watch Charlie Chaplin on the film reel, how JJ had thrown popcorn at Reid's head, how everyone had laughed uproariously, how Gideon had looked upon them all with a proud, benign smile. He noticed that Gideon was grasping Reid's hand, and Morgan leaned in closer, careful to remain silent as Gideon's voice floated through the air, the notes of a desperate prayer on his lips.

_God on high/hear my prayer/In my need/You have always been there_

_He is young/He's afraid/Let him rest/Heaven Blessed/Bring him home/Bring him home/Bring him home_

_He's like the son I might have known/If God had granted me a son/The summers die one by one/How soon they fly/On and on/And I am old and will be gone_

_Bring him peace/Bring him joy/He is young/He is only a boy_

_You can take/You can give/Let him be/Let him live/If I die/Let me die/Let him live/Bring him home/Bring him home/Bring him home_

Morgan felt his breath catch in his chest, watching as Gideon rested his head on the metal bar of Reid's bed, his soft, unearthly tenor shaking, dying, and turning to ash as he finished the song. He knew he was intruding on his ex-boss' privacy, but was unable to look away, unable to move. Gideon rarely showcased his vulnerability, even one on one, but Morgan had seen the traces of his gentle nature during cases, especially when they involved children, had seen how tender he'd been with Reid after the Tobias Hankel incident, soothing him when he'd woken up from nightmares during his stay in the hospital. He'd witnessed for himself how close Reid and Gideon had been, how they'd been almost like father and son, but this…this spoke volumes to how much Gideon still loved his mentee…still loved them all despite his estrangement. Morgan felt the rock-solid encasing he'd built around his heart that had anything to do with even the mention of Gideon, crack open. Gideon lifted his head up, and Morgan heard him sigh as he leaned back in his chair. Not entirely sure of what he was doing, and mildly afraid of Gideon's reaction, Morgan slid the door open and stepped inside.

"Les Miserables?" he questioned as Gideon turned around to face him, eyes widening slightly in surprise.

"Oh, I didn't know you were there," Gideon replied, recovering from his mild shock. "You know Broadway?" he asked, raising his eyebrows and looking a little astounded.

"Not really," Morgan said, closing the door firmly behind him. "But that's my Mom's favorite show. I took her and my sisters to see it for her birthday last year. I remembered the lyrics. I guess Reid's eidetic memory is rubbing off on me," he joked.

Gideon nodded, looking once again at Reid before looking back at Morgan, a marked silence falling between them for several moments.

"What did you do with Garcia?" he asked. "She was pretty intent on staying here."

"She had to go compile copies of the files from the Virginia murders," Gideon said, the smallest smile on his face as he spoke of the technical analyst. "She made me swear on my life to stay in this spot until she got back."

"I'm sorry for…breaking down on you earlier," Morgan said, leaning one shoulder against the wall, the memory fresh in his mind. Remembering how Gideon had instantly stepped up to embrace him and how he hadn't fought against it, no matter how many people were looking on, no matter how furious he was at Gideon. "And sorry for my… less than friendly greeting when you got here."

"You were angry," Gideon replied, and Morgan felt that once familiar feeling of the man's eyes penetrating through his very soul. "You had every right to be. I would be, if I were you."

Morgan was taken aback by this statement, but Gideon's tone was honest, devoid of any bitterness.

"It shook us all up, you leaving," Morgan heard himself admitting. "It shook me up. It shook Reid up. It even shook Hotch up."

"I know," Gideon said, his voice almost a whisper. Morgan could have sworn his eyes were glistening, but he let it pass, saddened by how frayed Gideon's voice sounded. "And I'm sorry."

"Are you…" Morgan hesitated slightly. "Are you happy?"

"I'm getting there," Gideon said, meeting his eyes, and Morgan saw a glint of the admiration he had always craved from Gideon resting within them.

Morgan's eyes turned back to Reid, watching his chest rise and fall, the noises of the various machines echoing off the walls. He looked even younger than he was, and Morgan wanted nothing more than for him to sit up and tell him every random fact about Star Trek, Dr. Who, or classic literature that had accumulated in his brain.

"Can you tell me about him?" Gideon asked, voice stronger now. "Tell me what he's like these days?"

"Gideon, he's still Reid," Morgan answered, confused. "He's…"

"It's been over two years," Gideon said. "I want to know what he's been up to. What you've been up to. I know he's still Reid, but there's a confidence in him now, the confidence that I tried to bring out of him all along."

Morgan paused before sitting down in the chair next to Gideon's. "We have about half an hour until William and Diana arrive, and before Prentiss gets back from the Princeton records office so we can start combining all the facts with the profile." He looked over at the comatose Reid, feeling a sharp pang in his chest. But as the memories swept through his mind, he found himself smiling through his sadness. Bittersweet emotions, he had discovered, could be the most potent of all. "What would you like to know?"

* * *

><p>Garcia heard voices outside the glass, but she was so intent on her laptop and watching Reid out of the corner of her eye, that the voices sounded like static, or perhaps like the adults in a Charlie Brown cartoon. She perked up however, at the sound of a male voice saying, "Diana, wait…" and the sound of swift footsteps entering the room. Diana Reid entered, looking just as she had when Garcia had met her several years ago, during the Fisher King case. She watched as Diana walked to the side of Reid's bed, instantly taking his hand in hers. Garcia had expected the news to send her reeling, as Reid had worried it would, but she seemed oddly calm. She heard what she assumed was William's voice talking softly outside to Hotch, and rose to give Diana a moment alone with her son.<p>

"You don't have to go, Penelope," Diana said, eyes still fixed on Reid. "All of you are his family as well."

Garcia sat back down, unsure of what to say. It didn't surprise her that Diana remembered her; although her memory was sometimes marred from her condition and the medication, her own IQ was supposedly nearly as high as Reid's, and aside from meeting during that case, Reid had told Garcia about his frequent mentions of them in his letters to his mother.

"We were all so glad you could make it," Garcia said, smiling up at Diana.

"I would have come earlier, had I known," Diana said, eyes still fixed on her son. "But Spencer was worried it would upset me, I'm sure." She sat down on the edge of the bed, and lifted Reid's head very gently into her lap without disturbing any of the many wires. She stroked his cheek with a shaking hand, the other brushing through his hair. "Spencer baby," she whispered. "You have to get better so that the doctors can let you wake up from this coma."

Garcia, who had been trying to keep her emotions in check as she assisted in the search for Kelly, felt tears prick her eyes at this testament of Diana's immense love for her son. She had always known the two had been incredibly close, but seeing it before her eyes, in a time where losing Reid was a very real possibility, truly struck home. Diana looked up at Garcia.

"He will be alright, you know," Diana said.

"How…how do you know?" Garcia asked, perplexed.

"A mother knows," Diana replied simply. "A mother always knows. Spencer hasn't finished his journey just yet…there's too much good left for him to do."

Garcia turned to see William Reid enter, followed by Morgan, Prentiss, JJ, and Gideon. Hotch and Rossi had just left to briefly convene with the Princeton P.D. in Cuddy's office, and then they would all meet in a few minutes to hopefully find the location where Kelly was holding Dr. Chase, hoping against hope that they would find him alive. They were so, so close, yet despair threatened them. It would also give Diana and William a bit of time alone with their son, even if he wasn't awake. Garcia wondered how awkward it was between them, but supposed things like that hardly mattered when your child might be dying.

If Garcia had expected Diana to be sobbing, she had also expected William Reid, although she'd never met him, to be the sort of person who kept his emotions under control in front of others. What was happening was the opposite. While Diana stayed with Reid's head in her lap, still stroking his cheek, the moment William walked in the room, there were tears streaming down his face. Garcia had initially been angry at him because he'd left her sweet Reid when he was just ten and hadn't kept in contact, but as she witnessed the broken father in front of her, she found that the anger ebbed. She remembered telling Reid that William had kept a literal archive about him on his home computer, and realized that the man seemed more complicated than she had initially perceived in her own head. His eyes were overridden with a mixture of guilt, confusion, and love as he approached his son's bed, laying a hand on the side of Reid's head.

"I didn't really have time to ask questions on the phone…" William stumbled over his words, then breathed in again, trying to calm himself. "Who is doing to this to Spencer? What's being done to stop them?"

Morgan stepped forward, and it was only appropriate; aside from Rossi, he was the only one who had actually met William, had been the only other witness to what had gone down in Vegas. Reid had vaguely mentioned it to the others, but hadn't gone into detail, which was unsurprising.

"It was a girl he knew at Cal-Tech," Morgan said. "She's got severe borderline personality disorder, and she was romantically interested in Reid when they were at school. She was also apparently very jealous of his accomplishments…" he trailed off, obviously realizing that a profiler's description wasn't what William or Diana was looking for.

"We're close to catching her," Morgan said. "She's taken a doctor here hostage, but the moment we find a location we'll be on the way. Doctor House and his team are working to figure out what she's poisoned Spencer with. They're the best in the country."

"Why would someone do this to him?" William persisted, losing his composure again. "I don't understand."

"Trust me sir," Prentiss spoke up. "The only rhyme or reason to this is in _her_ head. Looking for a logical reason won't help. We've gotten inside her head, and we _will _catch her."

"What are his chances?"

"William," Diana cut in.

"I need to know," he said, eyes roving between Reid and the other BAU agents.

At this, JJ stepped forward.

"It isn't a lost cause yet," she said, keeping her own voice steady even though Garcia knew it was difficult for her right now. JJ had nerves of steel, stood strong and held the team together with her special brand of glue, but Garcia had heard her around the corner, crying quietly into her phone while talking to Will. "Dr. House and his team are working around the clock. But the reality is, if a cause isn't found soon…he may not wake up. But we aren't giving up yet. On the contrary."

"But there is the possibility that he…that he won't make it?" William asked, wiping at his eyes furiously.

"Yes," JJ said, voice barely audible as she met his eyes. "But…"

"He'll make it," Diana said, looking up at her ex-husband, her voice not unkind.

"You don't know that," William said, a sharp grief enveloping his words.

"A mother knows," Diana said again.

William fell silent, pulling up a chair and grasping his son's wrist, tracing light circles on his skin. Diana looked up at the present team members, the hint of a smile on her face.

"I'm very thankful Spencer has all of you," she said. "He mentions all of you in his letters. And even though I know he keeps things from me so I don't worry, I trust all of you to be there for him."

"We do our best Ma'am," Morgan said. "He's like family to us. I wish…"

"This isn't your fault, Agent Morgan," Diana said firmly. "This is the work of a disturbed young woman." Her eyes landed on Gideon, who was watching the exchange silently.

"You believe he'll be alright too, don't you Gideon?" she asked, peering at him unflinchingly.

Gideon looked up, surprised, but responded.

"I'm not a man to give up hope until it's over, Ms. Reid," he said, eyes moving from her face to Spencer's. "And I have faith in the work of this team and of Dr. House's."

Morgan's cell phone rang, signaling that Hotch and Rossi were ready to meet them in the Diagnostics conference room.

"Gideon, can you stay here while we go meet with Hotch and Rossi?" Morgan asked. "Hotch wants an armed person in this room at all times, and all the Princeton P.D. are busy."

"Sure," Gideon said, looking over to William and Diana. "Unless you'd like me to stand outside?"

Diana didn't respond, lost in her son's face again, the first evidence of tears in her eyes, but William looked up, seemingly having calmed down.

"We'd like you to stay," he said, wrenching his eyes from Reid's face. "Please, don't stand on ceremony with us."

With that, Garcia begrudgingly left her post and scooped up her laptop, silently promising Reid that she would return as soon as possible.

* * *

><p>Rossi watched as his five team members searched furiously through various files; Prentiss, Morgan and Hotch searched through the pile of files the Princeton records office had given them, while JJ, Garcia, and himself made sense of the records from the Virginia murders, which had taken place in Arlington, Alexandria, MacLean, Falls Church, and Leesburg. She'd been smart, Rossi had to admit, for committing the murders in separate but close-proximities: each had their own police department or division, so it wasn't a surprise no one had made the connection.<p>

"All beaten, all sporting multiple cuts from a knife, all killed by a stab to the heart," Rossi said. "I'm going to venture a guess and say that the stab to the heart isn't irrelevant. Is there any way to doubt it's her? Especially when all of these guys have similar physical features to Reid?"

"It's probably her," Hotch said, looking up momentarily from the file. "The locals have turned the case over to us, but we'll have to work on finding evidence for those after we find her. She all but admitted it during her last phone call. She's been planning this for months, probably even for years, and now she has the courage to go after Reid."

"If she's capable of hacking into hospital records," Prentiss said. "She's capable of erasing other records. That's probably why we can't find out what happened to her after she dropped out of Cal-Tech. Something kept her from going after Reid over the past years…we need to find out what is."

"God, can Princeton not keep better records than this?" JJ questioned, frustrated. "These aren't in any kind of order or anything…"

"Keep looking," Hotch instructed. "At the core, this is about her relationship with her father, so she would pick a location that had something to do with him. I'm confident it's in these files…she said herself she was hiding in plain sight. Her even saying that means she's spiraling."

The rustling of paper pierced the room for the next few minutes, the tension so thick it was palpable. As they searched, Rossi felt the first real pang of uncertainty. He trusted the capabilities of this team absolutely, but even as they took once step forward it seemed like they took one step back. This was too close to home, and Rossi pondered if they should have brought another team in to assist. Strauss had suggested it of course, but none of them had wanted it, none of them had trusted anyone else to solve this particular case.

Then Morgan, who had been silent since they entered, spoke up.

"I found something," he said. "It's an old address. They moved around a lot, apparently, but this was the last known address. Garcia…"

"Already on it," she said, fingers pounding away on the keys. "Give it to me."

"115 Washington Court Road," Morgan said. "Trenton, New Jersey, 08610."

Rossi felt the mood of the room spurt upward as Garcia typed away, the laptop making various pinging sounds as she went. They were all frozen in place, JJ still grasping the edge of her file as she stared at Garcia.

"Does anyone live there?" Morgan pressed.

"No!" Garcia exclaimed! "It was foreclosed on a year ago and no one has moved in since."

"That has to be it," Prentiss said, already getting up from her chair, a gleam of exhilaration in her dark eyes. "That's got to be where she's taken Dr. Chase."

Hotch opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the glass door swinging open, revealing Chief Arnold.

"A woman called in to the tip line Agent Jareau set up," he said without ceremony. "She said she's seen a woman fitting two of Kelly's descriptions coming in and out of an unoccupied house at the end of the street."

"Where?" Hotch asked, standing as his hands grasped the edge of the glass table.

Rossi could practically hear everyone's blood pounding.

"It's on Washington Court Road in Trenton. About half an hour from here."

Rossi had never seen Hotch move so fast.

"We need to get a SWAT team immediately, just in case," Hotch said. "But we need to do a soft entry so that she doesn't kill Dr. Chase before we can get to him." He looked up at his team. "We all know how this woman profiles, and I don't think I need to emphasize just how volatile she is. We _cannot_ underestimate her. JJ, please let Dr. Cameron and Dr. Foreman know. Dave, please make sure Gideon is informed and that he stays with Reid. Chief Arnold, I was hoping you could leave one of your men outside Reid's door. Gideon is armed, but he's not officially an agent any longer, and extra manpower would make me feel more secure."

"Absolutely," Chief Arnold replied. "No question."

Hotch picked up his phone to call House.

* * *

><p>House glared at the unopened file of Dr. Reid's test results as his fingers danced across the piano keys, the notes calming his agitated brain. He was pissed that the diagnosis was evading him, especially when it seemed they'd been so close. He was perhaps even angrier that this witch of a woman was managing to outsmart him. House was far from sentimental; indeed, some might label as a misanthrope, but in his own unique way, he cared about the few people he'd allowed into his vicinity, even if he didn't often let them witness said affection. It was easier, really, to largely isolate himself, but there was no denying the sick feeling in his stomach when he thought of what that Kelly bitch was putting Chase through. He'd teased, mocked, and fought with Chase many times over the years, had called him an idiot too many times to count, but though he wasn't willing to admit it to anyone, not even to Wilson, Chase something like a protégée. He had a natural talent for diagnostics, an intuition that House rarely witnessed. That's why he'd always been harder on Chase. He pushed all of his fellows, and they were all good doctors, but he'd always pushed Chase further and longer.<p>

It didn't seem right really, that Chase's life should be in danger rather than his own. Chase was young, had a growing career, hell, he'd just gotten married. Himself on the other hand…he was getting older, he was a newly reformed Vicodin addict, and the only person he had waiting for him at home was his best friend, who was watching out for him in case he went crazy and started seeing things again. But the world didn't always make sense, much as people claimed it should. Life could be harsh and unyielding, and there wasn't always a reason. House was ejected from his musings by the sound of Wilson's key scraping in the lock.

"Hey," Wilson said, closing the door behind him. He raised one eyebrow. "What are you playing? Is that…is that Sweeney Todd?"

"What's it to you?" House countered. "And why do you even know that?"

"It was a favorite of Bonnie's…she used to listen to it all the time," Wilson answered, putting his keys down on the counter and shrugging out of his coat. "That sounds like 'Not While I'm Around.' That's a sappy song. And you HATE Broadway. And sap."

"That's because the plotlines are stupid and most of them are so campy it makes me want to vomit," House said, continuing to play, an image of a bloodied Chase burned in his brain even still. "But some of the piano adaptations of Sondheim's scores are challenging. And I _like_ challenging, in case you haven't noticed."

"You would like Sweeney Todd," Wilson said, although there was less mocking in his tone now as he realized what House was thinking of, realized the significance of the song. "It's morbid enough for you."

"You're an oncologist," House said, the final strains of the tune echoing through the room. "Half your patients die, and you picked that specialty all of your own accord. _That's_ a little morbid."

It was quiet between them for a moment, and House flipped open the manila folder and spread the various test results in front of him, squinting.

"I know you're worried about Chase," Wilson said, voice soft now. "And Cameron as well. I am too. We all are."

"Boy genius is going downhill," House evaded, signaling to Wilson just how upset he was. "And his test results have been all over the map. It doesn't make any damn sense. No psycho murderer is going to get the better of me."

"What have you got him on now?" Wilson asked, taking a seat in the chair near the piano bench.

"Sodium Bicarbonate for anti-depressant poisoning," House answered, not looking up. "But he's not doing any better. Cameron and Foreman just called. I thought for sure Chase and I were right about the atropine poisoning…" he trailed off, eyes widening as they fixed on his signature at the bottom of the test results which had incorrectly pointed toward mandrake poisoning. He hadn't looked closely at them before…

"Toxins can be hard to pinpoint," Wilson said. "And the results can often be false/positives, especially with Tropine Alkaloids." He looked at House. "Those test results aren't going to start talking, you know…"

"My signature," House said, cutting Wilson off. "I hadn't really looked at these results closely, but that's not my signature." He shoved the paper in Wilson's face.

"It looks like your signature to me, it's hardly legible," Wilson said, pulling his face away. "What's your point, what does this have to do…"

"I don't loop my G like that," House said. "That woman replaced the test results to lead us down a wild goose chase. She even picked something with almost the exact same symptoms, but with a different treatment, which I hate to admit is actually kind of brilliant. Chase's and my diagnosis was right. It _is_ atropine poisoning."

Wilson didn't even have time to respond as House reached for his phone and headed for the door, simply grabbing his keys from the counter once more so he could drive them back to the hospital. But as House made to punch his speed dial, his phone rang instead.

"House," he responded.

"Dr. House, it's Agent Hotchner," the unit chief said. "We've got a location."

"And I've got a diagnosis. Tell Dr. Cameron to start an IV of Physostigmine," House responded. "I'll be there in five minutes."

A/N: I'm betting some of you know the lyrics to the song that House is playing on the piano, but I'll put them here for anyone who doesn't. I actually got the idea for the songs in this chapter from listening to Mandy Patinkin's (Gideon) versions. If you haven't heard him sing, you should give it a listen, his voice is lovely. I hope everyone likes the way I instituted the songs into the chapter, and that they didn't seem out of place.

Lyrics: Nothing's gonna harm you/Not While I'm around/Nothing's gonna harm you, no sir/Not while I'm around/Demons are prowling everywhere, nowadays/I'll send them howling, I don't care/I've got ways/No one's gonna hurt you/No one's gonna dare/Others can desert you/Not to worry, whistle I'll be there/Demon's will charm you with a smile/For a while/But in time/Nothing can harm you, not while I'm around.


	15. Variation 14

Variation on a Theme

A Criminal Minds/House, M.D. Crossover

A/N: Hello readers! Thank you SO MUCH for the wonderful response to the last chapter, I was really, truly touched, and all of you keep me inspired. This chapter is kind of well, REALLY long, but I just didn't want to leave you guys with yet another cliffhanger. And **lolyncut**, I used one of your fabulous suggestions in this chapter, so I hope you like the way it worked out. I hope everyone is enjoying the new CM and House episodes, because I know I am! There's still a bit to go in this story, so I hope you're all along for the ride! Also, I know some of you are also reading my House story, Ghosts of the Past. I was stuck with some major writer's block which has thankfully dissipated, so the next chapter should be up within the week. Anyhow, I do hope all of you enjoy this chapter of Variation on a Theme!

Chapter 15: Variation 14

"_You raise me up/So I can stand on mountains/You raise me up/To walk on stormy seas/I am strong/When I am on your shoulders/You raise me up, to more than I can be." _

Aaron Hotchner had a migraine.

He could feel the blood pulsating in his forehead, the pain centered over his right eye. House and his friend Dr. Wilson had arrived not five minutes ago, diagnosis in hand, and sent Dr. Foreman to the pharmacy. He had returned quickly, and now he and Dr. Cameron were in Reid's room setting up the IV.

"Monitor him for the next hour," House was saying. "If any improvement occurs, reverse the coma. We'll be able to see some changes even if he's unconscious, but even more so if he's actually awake. And put him back on the NSAIDS immediately. The pain will go down if the Physostigmine works, but he'll still need something. Keep a close track on his heart…the medication will take some time to take effect, and he's still in danger of cardiac arrest. Have the paddles ready."

"You're sure this is the correct diagnosis?" Hotch asked, suddenly realizing that House had told Drs. Cameron and Foreman to monitor Reid, and that he wasn't going to do it himself, which he found odd.

"Yes," House said, turning back to face Hotch. "Chase and I were right in the beginning, about the atropine poisoning; it's odorless, tasteless, and clear. It penetrates the blood brain barrier, causes serious heart problems, the rash, the temperature regulation issues, and everything else. Now," he said, meeting Hotch's eye directly. "When do we go find Chase?"

Hotch started, supposing he shouldn't have been surprised, but found he still was. He glanced around at his team: at Morgan, who was clearly raring to go; at Rossi, who had one eyebrow raised at House; at Prentiss, whose mouth had dropped open in surprise. JJ, Garcia, and Gideon were still in the hospital room with Diana and William, so he couldn't gage their reactions.

"Dr. House," he began, careful. "You can't go with us. It's a dangerous situation. But I promise you'll know the instant we find Dr. Chase."

An incredibly uncomfortable silence fell, but Hotch stood his ground as House narrowed his bright blue eyes at him, looking rather ominous.

"He's _my_ employee," House said, a slow anger seeping into his voice as he grasped his cane tightly. "I've every right to go."

"I know you're worried," Hotch countered, softening his tone. "But you have to trust that we know what we're doing. This woman is clever, and she's vicious; there's no telling what tricks she might have up her sleeve, and you're not trained in combat, you don't have a weapon…"

"I'm _going_, end of story," House said, cutting Hotch off, taking one step forward as if to intimidate the unit chief.

Hotch closed his eyes briefly, understanding the diagnostician's worry, but also desperately wanting to go and search for Dr. Chase, because he was almost certain that they had the right location and the Princeton P.D. had said they would be ready in five minutes or less with the SWAT team. He glanced into Reid's room, praying that the treatment had started on time, praying that they wouldn't lose an irreplaceable member of their family…because if they did, Hotch didn't know if the team would ever recover. They would keep going because that was how they functioned, they would continue hunting killers, but they would never be the same if they lost their resident genius, who had earned a permanent place in all of their hearts. He felt his frustration build.

"Fight me on this, and you won't like how it ends," Hotch continued, stepping up evenly with House. "And trust me, I've seen endings you can't even imagine. In your world, people die in hospital beds or in operating rooms. In my world, they're _obliterated_. I hunt some of the sickest minds on the planet, constantly racing against time, and here you are, doing nothing but wasting it. I want to find Dr. Chase before Kelly can harm him any further."

"I get it," House said, watching out of the corner of his eye as Cuddy approached, no doubt wanting to see what the commotion was. "You're just trying to do your job..."

"Dr. Chase is one of your own, and you're terrified of losing him, of not being able to save him," Hotch said, his eyes flickering toward Reid's room once again, watching as Dr. Cameron explained the details to Reid's parents, to JJ, to Garcia, to Gideon. "I know. I _really_ do. This isn't the first time we've faced losing one of our own, losing Reid. It's terrifying when one of the teammates you're in charge of gets hurt, and you can't do anything to prevent it from happening."

"If you understand so well," House said, his expression electric with irritation, a wave of anxiety clearly overtaking him. But Hotch could tell he was no less determined. Gideon, who had been standing near the edge of Reid's room, was now standing in the doorway, eyes intent on the argument. "Then let me go with you. I'll follow whatever protocol you want. Just because I don't usually follow rules, it doesn't mean I'm incapable."

"This isn't your job!" Hotch shouted, wishing he could control his temper, but knowing the lack of sleep over the past days was bearing heavily upon him. "Your job is here!"

"Chase IS my job!" House roared. "Just like Dr. Reid is yours!"

His words rang through the hallway, and everyone's eyes were locked on the pair. Hotch glared daggers at House, but thoughts raced through his head nonetheless. It was insane, of course, to even consider it…but he remembered Georgia, remembered his desperation to locate Reid, remembered embracing him when they found him in the freezing woods, their breaths white puffs in the air. But he was an FBI agent, trained to deal with people like Kelly, with situations like this, and Dr. House would be putting himself in the line of danger, and wasn't there enough of that going on? Hotch glanced up at House, then back through Reid's window; he was still comatose, still hooked up to so many wires it was difficult to count. He thought of Dr. Chase, and how kind he'd been, saw the almost _proud_ glint in Dr. House's eye as he'd looked at his fellow. Flashes of the victims the team had rescued, terror in their eyes, their desperate shouts to see their loved ones, were Technicolor pictures in his mind, complete with sound.

"House," Cuddy started to say, reaching out an unsure hand to touch his shoulder. "You can't…"

"It's alright Dr. Cuddy," Hotch said, coming to his decision. "You may come with us, Dr. House, but you _must _follow every order I give, without question. If Dr. Chase is in shock, and there's a good chance he will be, he might react more calmly toward you."

House nodded in response. "And I'm not wearing one of those…"

"Kevlar vests?" Hotch questioned, finishing his sentence. "Yes, you are."

Hotch turned to speak to Prentiss and Morgan as he saw Chief Arnold approaching from down the hall, no doubt to inform him that the SWAT was ready to go. But before he could, he heard Gideon's voice, sounding flabbergasted.

"Hotch, how can you let him go?" Gideon asked, eyes widening slightly. "It's…"

Hotch spun around, dark eyes flashing with such aggression that Gideon took a step back.

"Jason," he said, injecting understanding into his tone as he realized he was coming on too strong. "You're the one who taught me that there is always an exception to the rule, and I believe this is one of those cases. I've been leading this team, and I need you to trust me on this."

Gideon still looked unsure, but realizing that Hotch had his reasons, conceded.

"Morgan, Prentiss, you're with me and the Princeton P.D.," Hotch said. "Rossi, JJ, make sure one of you is in Reid's room at all times." He looked up at Gideon once more. "And you as well, Jason, if you're alright with that."

"Absolutely," Gideon said. "We'll keep a watchful eye on Diana and William as well."

"Garcia," Hotch said, finally turning to the technical analyst, who had just come to the door. "Please keep searching through those files and locate any other addresses, then cross-check to see if anyone is in residence in those homes, just in case she isn't keeping Dr. Chase at this one."

"Yes, sir," Garcia replied, instantly heading back into Reid's room and her laptop, a pile of files next to her.

Hotch looked once more into Reid's room, his heart racing; Diana sat on one side of the bed holding her son's hand, while William sat on the other, staring at the floor, fingers twisted in his hair. Dr. Cameron emerged from the room, a shaky hope resting in her eyes.

"Please bring him back safely," she said, blinking away the tears.

"We'll do our very best Dr. Cameron," Hotch replied. "And thank you for sticking with Reid through all of this, despite what you're going through."

With that he beckoned Prentiss, Morgan, and House to follow him, armed and ready to find the woman who threatened to shake the foundations of both teams.

* * *

><p>The SWAT team waited outside while House followed Morgan, Hotchner, and Prentiss inside, quiet as death. Morgan swiftly picked the lock, clearly desperate to find the woman who was leading his friend rapidly to death's door. The entrance hall would have looked like any normal New Jersey suburban home, but it was obvious that something was very, very wrong. Everything was covered in such thick sheets of dust that little poofs rose up into the air as they walked, yet leaves had blown into the hallway from someone opening and closing the front door. The three agents walked in front of House, guns aimed and flashlights casting round beams across the floor.<p>

Hotchner and Morgan opened doors and found nothing until the fourth one which appeared to enter into a small study, but the window had been barricaded, leaving the room almost entirely in darkness aside from the light now filtering in from the hall. A figure was discernible, a young man with his arms shackled to the wall. The three agents made to move forward, but House held out a steady hand, the bullet proof vest they'd forced him into suddenly feeling tight as he leaned more heavily on his cane. Hotchner nodded, and House heard him tell Morgan to guard the door while he and Prentiss searched the remainder of the home with the Princeton P.D. who were waiting outside. House turned to Morgan, who flicked on the small lamp on the desk, kindly avoiding the harsh overhead.

Chase didn't even stir.

House spotted the keys to undo the hand-shackles cruelly placed just out of the captive's reach. House looked once more at Morgan as he picked up the keys, unable to look at his fellow just yet. Morgan had a melancholy gleam in his eyes, the same gleam that had been there while he sat at his comatose friend's bedside. He remained vigilant however, muscles tensed, ready to fire his weapon if necessary. House finally turned around, his leg hurting worse than ever. Because he couldn't squat he lowered himself onto the floor, and before he even surveyed Chase's injuries, he put two fingers against his neck, feeling for a pulse against skin that was much was much paler than usual. It was thready, and House felt his own heart quicken as he felt the fine, irregular pulse. House exhaled, relieved at least, that Chase wasn't dead. Several pools of days old vomit crusted the floor, and House did his best to avoid them.

Chase's lab coat lay in a bloodstained heap beside him, his shirt ripped into bloody tatters, the buttons gone, some of the many small crimson cuts partially concealed beneath. His cheek sported a dark purple bruise, and House saw a long knife wound stretching across his collarbone area, as well as two deep wounds in the abdomen that concerned him. At the moment however, he was worried for the kid's sanity, worried about him going into shock upon regaining consciousness and aggravating the wounds further.

"Chase?" he asked, careful not to speak at too high a volume.

Chase stirred, but still squeezed his eyes shut tight.

"Chase," House said sternly. "You have to open your eyes."

A few seconds passed, and Chase's eyes popped open, albeit not all the way.

"House?" he asked. He started trembling, his voice sounding like a small boy's; scared, lost, and just clinging to the hope that someone would rescue him, his normal defensive walls nowhere in sight. House wished he would sit up and make some kind of sarcastic remark about what had taken him so long, wished he would shout at him, wished he could tell a joke and have Chase chuckle softly and shake his head…anything but this broken man before him.

House heard the footfalls of the Princeton P.D., heard Prentiss and Hotchner return to inform Morgan that there was no trace of Kelly, but that there was the body of a girl upstairs, likely Samantha Rogers. The police made to come into the room to start marking off the crime scene, but Hotchner held them off and bid them to go upstairs first and have the ambulance ready. The three agents moved closer but still kept a respectful distance despite their obvious desire to come forward.

"It's me Chase," House replied. "And you'd better be thankful, because being on the floor hurts my leg. I'm going to take these shackles off, okay? I'm not going to hurt you." He slid on the blue gloves the agents had given him in order to keep his fingerprints off anything.

Chase jerked back at first contact despite House's warning.

"Chase, you have to let me take these off you or we can't get you out of here," House said, surprised at the kindness in his own voice. "The BAU is here and no one is going to let that bitch touch you again."

Chase nodded almost imperceptibly, allowing his boss to unlock the shackles and slip his arms out, his wrists covered in angry red marks. He finally opened his eyes fully and looked up at House, who was scarcely able to look back. He tried moving his arms for the first time, a cry of pain ringing through the room.

"It's okay Chase," House whispered, hardly recognizing his own voice. "I swear I'll get you the best narcotics there are."

For the first time, he really looked at his long-time fellow, his injuries becoming more alarming; there was a bloody gash on his head, and the deep wounds on his abdomen were still bleeding freely, as were a few of the more shallow ones. He was clearly malnourished and dehydrated, and his lips and neck were bruised. House removed one of the gloves and put a hand to Chase's head, his skin feeling clammy.

"You're losing blood," House said. "We need to get you out of here before you go into hypovolemic shock."

"I know how you feel when your leg hurts now, House. Everything just…it hurts," Chase muttered. "It hurts so much, House."

"I know kid, but you've got to let the agents help you up," he said, nodding at Morgan, Prentiss, and Hotchner. "I'm a cripple."

But before House even realized what was happening, Chase's head was suddenly buried in his chest, his whole form shaking so hard that House was certain the floor was vibrating. His fingers clung desperately to House's shirt sleeves. House had witnessed Chase keep his emotions under lock and key around others for years, and this…this was the opposite of that.

It was almost too much for him to handle.

He hesitated for a moment, then wrapped his arms carefully around Chase, trying not to hurt him.

"You can't tell Allison, House," Chase said, and House was unnerved that he wasn't crying. "You can't tell her."

"I can't tell Cameron I hugged you?" House questioned. "I'm pretty sure she'd be thrilled I was showing emotion…"

"No," Chase interrupted, grasping House's shirt sleeves tighter. "You can't tell her…Kelly made me…she kept touching me…she made me kiss her….she said if I didn't cooperate that she would kill everyone…"

"I won't tell her," House promised, barely able to keep his horror in check, because this opened up possibilities he didn't want to consider, although it did explain the bruises on Chase's neck and lips. "You're getting blood on me here wombat," he continued, releasing Chase. "Let's get you out of here."

Prentiss approached first, laying a tender hand on Chase's back, un-phased when he flinched. House mused that while this woman could likely kill a criminal with one pull of the trigger, and would take down anyone who threatened her team without even blinking, she was also exceedingly gentle.

"Dr. Chase, we're going to get you out of here okay?" she said, rubbing her well-practiced hand up and down Chase's back. He relaxed slightly, nodding in response. "Dr. House and I are going to ride with you in the ambulance, if that's alright."

"Yes, please," Chase said, his voice hoarse. "I don't…I don't want to be alone."

Prentiss offered a hand to help Chase up from the floor. He accepted, but as he stood he nearly fell from weakness, grimacing as pain shot through him. Morgan approached from the other side, looking at Chase for permission before wrapping a secure arm under Chase's shoulders, his arm going over Morgan's so that he could lean fully on him as he walked. Prentiss took hold of his other arm, keeping him steady. Chase turned back to look at House, face pinched with fear as if he thought Kelly might emerge from the dark corners of the room.

"I'll be right there," House reassured him. "Let the EMTs do a shabby job until we can get you to the hospital."

Chase nodded, allowing Morgan and Prentiss to help him along, leaving House and Hotch standing in the semi-darkened room as the crime scene unit came inside, Chief Arnold giving out directions. House stared after his fellow, admittedly horrified. Hotch's phone rang before he could speak.

"Hey Dave," Hotch said. "Yeah, we found him. He's sustained some serious injuries, mostly knife wounds, but he is alive. But there's no sign of Kelly. We searched the entire house, and the uniforms are searching the small yard."

House couldn't hear Rossi's answer, but heard Hotch's next inevitable question.

"How is Reid?" he asked, and House noticed that he attempted to keep his voice neutral, trying and failing to keep the raw emotion out of his voice. He paused, listening to Rossi's response, then looked over at House. "He's improving, and they're going to reverse the coma in just a few minutes," Hotch said.

After a moment Hotch hung up, officers now buzzing around the room.

"She's too determined to retreat," Hotch said, as House tried to unfreeze the terror in his expression. "She went out for something, and she was arrogant enough to assume we wouldn't find think of this place. She's starting to get sloppy."

"She was in control enough to do that to Chase," House said, his tone biting, even if he knew blaming the man beside him was completely irrational. "She could be anywhere."

"No," Hotch answered, firm. "She's put too much effort into this to give up now. She _has_ to finish this, and that means she's coming after Reid. I don't know when, but she won't leave this area. I'll make sure officers are always outside Dr. Chase's door."

House remained uncharacteristically quiet, the image of Chase seizing his shirt sleeves, the sound of him screaming out in pain, burned into his psyche. He looked down, just realizing that Chase's blood streaked his shirt.

"I know you're not much for showing emotion," Hotch said, heading toward the door, House falling into step beside him. "But he's going to need you."

House nodded once in response, then followed Hotch outside to the ambulance and making a beeline to Chase, who was flinching at every move the EMT made.

"Dr. Chase," the EMT, who was a regular at Princeton-Plainsboro, said. "I need to stem the bleeding on these so we can get going to the hospital. Your blood pressure is skyrocketing, and you're probably going to need a blood transfusion."

"Get his blood pressure under control, and I'll bandage him up temporarily to stem the blood," House said, already seizing a pair of gloves and stepping up into the ambulance. "And then call ahead to the ER, and tell them we're coming. I want them on immediate standby in case we need to make arrangements for the OR if there's any major internal injury. Have them alert Dr. Allison Cameron now, and then again when we're five minutes out. Cuddy as well."

House's reputation preceded him, and the EMT didn't argue, and went about following House's instructions.

"Lay back Chase," House said. "No arguing."

The Australian was one of the most stubborn men he knew, a trait he'd long recognized in himself, so when he did as requested without putting up a fight, House wondered if his long-time employee would ever recover.

* * *

><p><em>Reid sat at the old mahogany writing desk he'd snagged at a yard sale when he'd first moved to DC. He hadn't been looking for it really, but someone in his complex was selling old belongings, and he bought it without giving it a second thought. It looked like an antique from the 1800s, but the seller didn't seem to know how old it was, and he got it for one-hundred bucks, albeit with a few scratches that Reid felt gave it character.<em>

_But why was he sitting at the desk in his apartment? That didn't make any sense. He looked down, realizing that he was wearing a hospital gown. Was he dying? He thought maybe he was, although he wasn't certain. He wasn't in pain, but then again he didn't know if he was conscious, or why he was in his apartment in the first place. Hadn't he been in New Jersey? He looked out his window and was hit with nothing but pitch-black darkness, no streetlights in sight, or cars driving by, which was odd really, since he lived in the center of DC. There wasn't a peep out of the neighbors above him, who sometimes had music blasting._

_You're losing your bloody mind, Spencer._

_Fear gripped him with freezing, choking hands, and he found himself reaching for some of the stationary he kept for writing letters to his mother, each lined with quotes from different classic authors. For some inexplicable reason he felt the need to write to his team. He needed to tell them what they meant to him so desperately that it was almost painful, even if he wasn't sure why. If he was really in his apartment, then there must be a mailbox, right? _

_Music started playing._

_It sounded vaguely familiar. He listened closer._

"_When I am down, and oh my soul so weary/When troubles come/And my heart burdened be/Then I am still, and wait here, in the silence/Until you come and sit a while with me…"_

_He'd heard this before! He'd been over to JJ's for dinner, and Henry had gotten sleepy, so JJ went to put him to bed before they had coffee and desert, and she'd sung this softly to the barely one-year-old baby. Curious, he'd asked her to play it for him, and she'd obliged, proceeding to burn him the entire Josh Groban CD. It wasn't traditional classical, but she knew he'd like it anyway. He rose, trying to find the source of the music, but his CD player was empty, and his laptop was shut. Frustrated, he sat back down and picked up his pen._

_Dear JJ,_

_I don't know if you realize it, but you're like a sister to me. Not only have you made me a part of our BAU family, but you've made me a part of your family with Will and Henry. As powerful as words are, I don't know if I can ever fully express what it meant to me when you asked me to be Henry's godfather. I know I can always come to you about anything, and I love sitting with you, drinking coffee and just talking for hours. You like me just the way I am, and you've seen me through some of the most difficult times in my life, and you've laughed with me during the best. We bonded like glue in those months after you first started at the BAU, just a few short months after I did, and that's never changed. It's only gotten stronger._

_You're the best friend I could ask for._

_Love,_

_Spence_

_Reid tapped his pen against his chin. A moment of clarity hit him as he recalled Gideon sitting beside his hospital bed. He __**was**__ sick!_

_Dear Gideon,_

_I cannot thank you enough for coming up to me that day after your lecture at Cal-Tech. Because of your encouragement, I found a job that I'm passionate about, a job that allows me to make a difference in the lives of others, a job where my co-workers are my friends and my family. You realized the potential in me to do this job, and without that, I wouldn't be where I am now. You were always patient with me, and you pushed me beyond the confines of the boxes I'd set up for myself. Because of your mentorship, your friendship, you helped my confidence emerge, and that was always something with which I battled. You believed in me._

_Thank you for being like a father to me._

_Spencer_

_Reid pulled out another sheet of paper, the music still drifting in from its unknown source. His heart beat faster._

"_You raise me up/So I can stand on mountains/You raise me up/To walk on stormy seas…"_

_Was he in a coma? He felt it was a strong possibility. Nothing about this scenario made sense, none of it was logical, but he found fighting with something he couldn't control simply made him exhausted. _

_Dear Morgan,_

_I was terrified when I saw you on my first day at the BAU. I don't think I've ever told you that. But the moment you stuck out your hand and said, "Welcome to the job, kid," and shot me that grin you usually have when you tease me, I thought we would be friends, no matter how different we were, because you simply accepted me into the fold. You took me under your wing and gave me life lessons I couldn't get anywhere else. _

_What I didn't know (see, I __**don't**__ know everything) was that I would end up gaining a brother, a brother who is hands down the bravest person I know._

_Thank you for always being there, even when I'm ridiculously stubborn._

_Reid_

_Reid thought that perhaps all of this was just happening in his head, but he didn't even care anymore. He kept writing._

_Dear Emily,_

_Did you know that you are one of the easiest people to talk to? Even though I can be stubborn about talking, I never regret sharing my problems or my fears with you. You always keep me on the same level, you never seem tempted to baby me, and you listen intently before offering any sort of advice. Your advice however, always rings true. Your wit and your sense of humor always make me laugh even on the toughest day. You're a part of my family, and when you first joined the team, I never could have imagined how strong our friendship would become. _

_I know I can trust you with anything, and to me, that's irreplaceable._

_Much Love,_

_Reid_

_The music grew louder now, and Reid felt as if it went in his ear, through his brain, and out the other ear, as if it consumed him. _

"_I am strong/When I am on your shoulders/You raise me up/To more than I can be…"_

_Whether this was in his head, or this was heaven…whatever this was, his apartment still looked the same. His eyes landed on a photograph of the team from the last fourth of July. His eyes focused on Hotch; a grin split his face as he stood in the middle, Jack resting on his shoulders. _

_Dear Hotch,_

_You've kept this team, this family, together through some incredibly rough times. And even in the tragedy of losing Haley, you still stood strong. You fielded every threat from Strauss to split this team apart, and you've been there for all of us. You've been there to keep me balanced, there to help me quietly through any struggle without question. You're a rock for all of us, even if you don't know it. You respected and took me seriously from the moment I set foot in the BAU at twenty-two, when most people would have rolled their eyes and taken bets on how long I would last in one of the most strenuous, specialized units in the FBI._

_Thank you Hotch, for everything you've done for me, and for being the head of our little family._

_Reid_

_Despite his anxieties, Reid couldn't help but grin as he thought of the man he would write to next, imagining the Italian's usual amused grin._

_Dear Rossi,_

_You don't know this, but before you ever came back to join the team, I had not only read all of your books, but I'd pre-ordered a lot of them before they were even released. You were like an FBI superhero to so many people, and getting to work with you was an honor I hadn't expected. Even more than that though, I got to know the man behind the books, behind the tales and the stories. I rambled a lot, as I tend to do, when I first met you, but you gave me a chance anyway, stood by me in Vegas when I saw my father for the first time in seventeen years, worked day and night to make sure Emily and I got out of that ranch in Colorado safely, respected me, and became a part of our family. You're one of the most determined, loyal people I've ever known._

_And hey, maybe one of these days I'll get a pair of Italian leather boots of my own._

_Reid_

_He heard the music crescendo._

"_You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains/You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas/I am strong, when I am on your shoulders/You raise me up, to more than I can be…"_

_A chuckle escaped his lips as his eyes flitted to another photograph, a much older one from his 24__th__ birthday, the BAU's bubbly technical analyst's lips kissing his cheek as he blew out the candles, a ridiculous hat on his head._

_Dear Garcia,_

_I don't know if I've ever told you outright, but you, Penelope, are one of the most beautiful souls I've ever met. I've always felt I knew who I was, but I was not always so comfortable expressing myself, always afraid that people would push me away. You're confident, and you're never fearful of letting people know who you are and how you feel, and your friendship has helped me learn that the people close to me will love me for myself. Never change that, okay? Promise me. You are utterly loyal, you are wonderfully fun, and you are a solid shoulder for anyone in our BAU family to lean on, and I can't thank you enough for your irreplaceable friendship. I'll never forget that, aside from Gideon, you were the first person on the team I told about my Mom._

_Much Love,_

_Reid_

_The final notes of the song echoed through the room, and Reid pulled out one last sheet of paper, his mother's face appearing in his mind. It was his ninth birthday, and his parents had purchased a special-order Star Trek cake. It had been one of his mother's good days, and his father had taken a rare day off work. He smiled._

_Dear Mom,_

_I truly hope you know how much I love you. I don't think I tell you enough, but it was you who made me who I am today, it was you who told me I could anything with my life that I desired. You never pressured me, but encouraged me instead, and sometimes during the darkest cases we encounter, I think back to all the nights you would read to me, and my heart lifts. It makes me unceasingly proud to be your son; you're one of the most brilliant minds I've ever known, but most of all, there isn't a better mother in the world._

_I love you,_

_Spencer_

_Reid felt tears drip from his eyes and onto the paper, quickly swiping them away, stacking the papers neatly into a pile. He remembered now…he was sick, being poisoned no less, and he was in a coma. He was inside his head, wasn't he? Or was he already dead? He rose, desperate to find a mailbox to get these letters to his friends. You can't mail letters if you're inside your head, Spencer, and not if you're dead, either, he told himself. But he had to tell his team, his mother, how he felt, he had to let them know…_

_Light came filtering through the curtains, and Reid pushed them aside, watching in awe as light poked holes through the darkness until it was almost completely gone._

_Then everything was white._

Reid's eyes fluttered open, a familiar face he hadn't expected to see swimming into focus as he blinked.

"Mom?" he asked, his voice sounding more like a croak.

His eyes flickered to the figure next to her.

"Dad?" he asked, even more shocked.

Dr. Cameron and Dr. Foreman stood next to his head, and JJ, Garcia, Rossi, and Gideon were on the side opposite his parents. Hotch, Morgan, and Prentiss were missing. Had they gone to find Dr. Chase? Had there been a lead? But first…what were his parents doing here?

"Mom," he said, reaching over for her hand almost out of instinct, feeling warmth spread through him as she took it in hers. "What are you and Dad doing here?"

"Your team contacted us," Diana began. "Agent Jareau had your power of attorney, and she made an arrangement with Bennington. Your father," she said, turning around to momentarily glance at William. "Came to retrieve me."

"But you could be in danger," he protested, still feeling immensely groggy. "You could…"

"It's alright baby," she whispered, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Don't make yourself even more anxious."

Knowing it was futile to continue, Reid looked over at his father, who stood back slightly, but his gazed was still fixed on his son. A rush of mixed emotions flooded his heart, but beyond that he felt glad that William was there.

"Thank you," he said, the feelings clear in his trembling voice. "Thank you for coming. Thank you for bringing Mom."

"You're welcome, Spencer," he said, very gently squeezing Reid's arm. "You're so very welcome."

"What…what happened?" Reid asked, turning to Cameron and Foreman. "Did…did you figure out what it was? Did you find Dr. Chase?"

"House figured out that it was actually atropine poisoning," Cameron answered. "He was looking through your test results, and noticed that one of his signatures wasn't correct. He believes Kelly replaced the original test results, but we've just started the Physostigmine. You're not out of the woods just yet, but atropine toxicity can, thankfully, be reversed." She smiled at him. "We've started NSAIDS as well, to keep the pain down, but you're going to be groggy for a while. And Chase…" she trailed off, unable to finish her thought. Foreman placed a hand on her shoulder as JJ spoke up.

"I'll explain it all to you later," she said, stepping closer to him, the traces of tears standing out against her skin. "But we found an address, the last one Kelly and her parents lived in, and it was foreclosed on last year, so Hotch, Morgan, Prentiss, and the Princeton P.D. are over there now. Rossi called Hotch a little less than half an hour ago, and they found Dr. Chase. He's in bad shape, but he's alive."

"And Kelly?" Reid asked, thrilled that they'd found Dr. Chase alive, but feeling his stomach sink nevertheless. "Did they find her?"

"There's no trace of her," Rossi said. "But she won't go far, I'm guessing. They should be back in just a few minutes."

"Don't worry sweet cheeks," Garcia said, absentmindedly brushing a hair out of his eyes. "We won't let her get to you."

"I'm more worried about her getting to any of you," Reid protested. "I…"

He was cut off by the sound of Cameron's pager going off, watching as she nearly jumped into the air.

"They've…they've gotten back," she said, tears filling her eyes, an unrestrained combination of joy and terror overtaking her voice.

"Go," Reid said, gesturing at Foreman as well. "Both of you."

Cameron smiled at him one last time in thanks before rushing out of the room, nearly knocking the shift nurse down as she went.

"House and I will have our pagers on," Foreman said. "If _anything_ goes wrong, you let us know. I'll have the nurses come in to check in on you every half hour until we come back."

Reid nodded, falling back against the pillows as Foreman left, releasing a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding.

"How're you feeling, kiddo?" Gideon asked, his gaze ever penetrating.

Reid rubbed his eyes, feeling as if he could never clear the sleep from them. He was relieved beyond measure that House had figured out the diagnosis, relieved that they'd found Dr. Chase…but Kelly was still out there, ready and able to harm him further. But even more disconcerting was the mere thought that she might harm his team or his parents.

"I…I'm tired," Reid replied, sitting up once again in his agitation. "Where could she have gone? What if she went somewhere far away, only to come back when we least expect it? I can't…I can't let her hurt any of you."

"Spencer, you have to calm down," Diana said, rubbing a comforting hand up and down her son's back. "Your heart is trying to heal, and stress isn't going to help that."

"I know," Reid said, trying to keep his emotions in check, feeling his heart pick up a more rapid pace. He felt stripped of all his defenses, his shield completely gone. Images of his team, of his parents, bloody and dead on the floor, swarmed through his mind, his rational brain refusing to function. "I just…I don't want to endanger any of you…this is about me, and she'll hurt you in order to get at me."

"Spence," JJ said softly, but with a determined zeal in her voice. "We _will_ get her."

"She's spiraling quickly," Rossi added. "And you know as well as any of us that the profile says that she has to try and finish this. She won't go anywhere we can't catch her…"

"But you don't know," Reid said, unable to stop the steady flow of speech emerging from his mouth. "You don't…"

Pain shot down his left arm.

* * *

><p>Chase felt largely outside of himself as the ambulance sped down the street, the siren screeching in his ears. He estimated that about half an hour had passed, although it felt longer. He was terrified that this was all a dream, terrified that he would wake up once more in the dark, cold room of that house with Kelly leering at him, knife in hand. Pain ripped through him as the ambulance ran over a bump, and he couldn't stifle a shout. He felt someone grasp his hand. Was that House? He looked down.<p>

It was.

"Tell anyone," House said, glaring at him even as he still kept hold. "And you'll regret it. Forever."

Chase laughed, but stopped almost instantly because it made him feel like his many wounds were on fire.

"Dammit," he seethed, eyes landing on House's jacket. "House…House, you've got blood on your jacket."

"Your blood," House replied. "Thanks for getting your hazardous biological waste on me, by the way. You're going to need a blood transfusion, that's for certain. If you'd been left there much longer…" he stopped, suddenly looking away from Chase's face.

"I would have died?" Chase asked, his own voice barely audible. He dared to ask the question. "Am I…am I going to die?"

"No," House said, so adamant that Chase would have jumped back had he been able. "I've stemmed the blood flow enough until we get you to the ER. You've probably got a concussion from that head wound, you're dehydrated, malnourished, and you're going to need surgery for those two deeper wounds in your abdomen. We'll put you on antibiotics in case those wounds got infected from lack of care. You'll have a hell of a recovery, but you will make it. So don't ask again."

Chase saw House's eyes run over the bruises on his neck and lips, and he turned away, feeling the tears gather in his eyes.

"Chase," House said. "I need you to tell me what exactly she did to you that caused those bruises. That's sexual assault."

"No," Chase answered emphatically, wincing at House's words.

"The FBI is going to have to question you about it eventually, and it will be easier to tell me first," House argued.

"Why on earth would I tell _you_? You're the most insensitive…"

"Because you trust me, despite all the crap I give you," House interrupted, staring hard into Chase's eyes, yet he appeared relived that Chase was arguing with him.

"You can't tell Allison."

"I won't," House promised. "But she's going to find out. You need to tell her."

Ignoring the second part of his boss' sentence, Chase closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, fervently wishing he was in the ER so that they could give him something that actually helped the crushing pain that swept through his entire body.

"She…she just…she kept teasing me," Chase began, hating how much his voice shook. "She kept straddling me, running her hands up my chest…kept touching me, running her fingers along the waistband of my pants." He felt the vomit rising in his throat. "She started kissing my neck, and she…she started kissing me on the mouth…I couldn't…"

His voice broke off, and House allowed him a moment.

"When I didn't kiss her back she told me that she'd kill Allison, kill Dr. Reid, and the BAU…said she would leave you alive just to watch you suffer because you couldn't save me or Dr. Reid. I had to…I had to kiss her back, and she pushed her tongue into my mouth, and she made me…she made me reciprocate…I couldn't stop her…she…she would have killed…I'm so weak…"

"You're not," House said, absolutely serious. "Say that again, and I'll give you another head wound. Now stop talking, we're at the hospital."

The next few minutes were a blur. Chase found himself surrounded: House, Agents Hotchner, Morgan, and Prentiss on one side, the EMT's on the other, nurses and two ER doctors joining them as the gurney was rolled inside.

"House!" he heard Cuddy's voice. "Oh, God, you found him. I've got an OR on standby…"

"Has Cameron been paged? I told them to page her when we were five minutes out."

As soon as the words left his mouth however, Chase heard a familiar voice, a voice he'd dreamt of for the last few days.

"Robert!" Cameron exclaimed, and Chase saw her running forward, Foreman following close behind.

"Just a second Cameron," House said, still oddly gentle as he blocked her way with his cane. "Let them get him off the gurney." He turned back to Chase. "Alright wombat, this is going to hurt like hell, but it will just take a second." He nodded to the ER doctor, nurse, and the EMT, who seemed to be following his lead.

"One, two, three," the EMT said, as they lifted him off the gurney and onto the small ER bed.

"No, please, not again," Chase begged, pain cutting through him like Kelly's knife had. "Don't…"

"Don't worry kid," House said. "As soon as you're out of surgery, you'll get those narcotics I promised." He moved his cane out of the way, allowing Cameron forward.

Chase felt his breath catch in his chest as he looked at her, hardly able to believe she was actually standing in front him when he'd feared he would never see her again.

And then, for the first time since they'd rescued him, he broke down.

He didn't care about the pain, didn't care that the doctors needed to tend to him and further assess his condition so they could send him to surgery…all he wanted was Allison's arms around him.

"Allison…oh God," he said, not even embarrassed by the fact that he was sobbing in front of a large group of people, where before it would have mortified him.

"Shhh, sweetheart," she said, holding his head to her chest in order to avoid aggravating the wounds all over his chest and abdomen. "I'm here, you're safe."

He grabbed wildly for her free hand, and she took his as best she could in one of her own, interlacing their fingers.

And then House's pager went off.

Chase looked up, watching House's eyes widen slightly in surprise, and a thought struck him.

"House!" he exclaimed, suddenly desperate. "Dr. Reid, it was atropine poisoning. Kelly."

"I know," House said, his tone grave. "But boy genius is having a heart attack. Foreman, come with me."

He took off down the hall as fast as he was able, Foreman following close behind. Morgan and Prentiss made to go after them, but Hotch held them back.

"We don't need to get in their way," he said. "There's enough people in the room as it is, and they need room to do their work."

Both looked ready to argue, but obeyed their boss' order nevertheless. Chase looked up as Hotch came close to his bed, noticing that the normally stoic man's hands were shaking. Even still, he had words of comfort.

"She won't be getting near you again, Dr. Chase," he said, and Chase spied a distinct wetness around his eyes. "We'll make sure of that."

* * *

><p>Jason Gideon had faced some of the sickest, sadistic minds on the planet without flinching.<p>

But now he was terrified.

The monitors were screaming in his ears, and Reid was grasping at his chest. A nurse rushed in, eyes flitting instantly to his vitals.

"Cardiac arrest," she said. "Dr. House has been paged." She pulled out the paddles in preparation.

"My baby!" Diana shouted. "Not my baby!"

"Diana," William said, grabbing hold of her carefully to hold her back. "We've got to get out of the way so they can help."

"They're trying to kill my Spencer!" she continued, trying to rip away from William's hold. He held her more firmly, practically dragging her from the room as Dr. House and Dr. Foreman approached from down the hall, a second nurse assisting so they could give Diana her medication to calm down; Gideon had feared such a reaction, but he wasn't surprised. This was her beloved son, her only child, and he had been impressed by how well she'd held up to this stress with her condition.

"Out of the way!" House thundered. "Foreman, epinephrine."

Gideon stepped back, barely taking in the horrified faces of JJ, Rossi, and Garcia.

"Paddles!" House shouted, practically wrenching them from the nurse's hands and placing them on Reid's chest.

"Clear!"

Reid was flat-lining.

"Clear!"

Nothing.

"Clear!"

Nothing.

"Come on, boy genius," House muttered. "Not after all the shit you've put us through already, not after I brilliantly figured out what was wrong with you."

"Clear!"

Still nothing.

House moved to press again, but Dr. Foreman placed a hand on his arm.

"House…"

"Don't even, Foreman!" he shouted, his entire person emanating with electricity, and Gideon suddenly realized just how intimidating this man could be. "Don't you realize geniuses are a rare breed? Get off!"

He pressed down one more time, and Gideon felt as if the world was moving in slow motion, his fingernails pressing so hard into his palms that he was sure he was drawing blood.

Beep…beep…beep…

"He's back," House said, exhaling a rush of air. "He's alright."

Gideon breathed again as Reid's eyes opened, his own breaths ragged.

"Breathe, boy genius," House said, the barest hint of a smile slipping onto his face. "You've got some fight in you."

"Is the medicine not working?" Gideon heard himself ask.

"It will," House said. "It just needs a little bit more time to take full effect. I'll up the dose slowly so we can avoid another instance like this." He turned back to Reid. "You're going to be okay, kid. I half expected this to happen, but I think we caught it just in time."

Reid nodded silently, closing his eyes again.

And when he reached for Gideon's hand, a rare request for physical contact, Gideon had never felt so grateful for the feeling of a pulse.


	16. Variation 15

Variation on a Theme

A Criminal Minds/House, M.D. Crossover

A/N: Hello readers! Goodness, I'm SO sorry for the delay in updating…school got the better of me, and I also got a cat, which has been exceedingly fun. I've always had dogs, but as I live in a studio a cat seemed more practical, so I've been getting used to that. Coincidentally, I named him Spencer…anyway, I do hope you enjoy this chapter. I know the past several have been a bit action-packed, but this one is actually quite reflective, a chance for all the characters to take a look at what's happened, and see Reid and Chase's ordeals through the eyes of their friends. There is much more to come, but again, I _promise _that both Chase and Reid will be whole and healthy by the end of the story. And Kelly will get her due, but we certainly haven't seen the last of her yet. Thank you SO much to all of you for reading, alerting, or reviewing, and this time I should get around to answering reviews. You're all awesome!

Chapter 16: Variation 15

"_If I fall along the way/Pick me up and dust me off/And if I get too tired to make it/Be my breath, so I can walk…Can you help me I'm bent/I'm so scared that I'll never/Get put back together…" ~ Bent (Matchbox 20)_

Reid had never felt this exhausted in his entire life: his chest ached, and his limbs felt as heavy as concrete blocks…but right now, all he could think of was getting his parents out of immediate danger. His mother had calmed down somewhat in the aftermath of the heart attack, but she was certainly not as calm as she had been earlier, and he worried for her. He wanted them both back in Vegas and far away from Kelly, knowing that she would use their presence against him, against the team, and had no doubts that she would harm them if given the chance.

"Spencer, we're _not_ leaving," Diana said, a resolute gleam in her eyes. "You're ill, and you're in danger."

She was simple, straight to the point, and because of that she was even more difficult to argue with. His father remained quiet for the moment, his eyes flickering back and forth between his ex-wife and his son. Reid met his mother's eyes; he wanted her here, even wanted his father here: that much was certain, but he _wouldn't_ risk their lives. Rossi and Garcia, along with Gideon, were the only ones of the team left in the room, as the rest had gone to search for any possible clues left at Kelly's parents' old house, or any sign that she might return. Garcia had spent the last two hours alternating between flipping furiously through the rest of the Princeton files and typing away on her computer. She'd found two other Trenton addresses, but Kelly had not been present at either. They had stationed Princeton P.D. officers at each home in case she showed up, however.

"Mom," he said, firm, but gentle. "I know you're worried, but they've gotten the diagnosis, and I'm on the right medication."

"You had a heart attack, Spencer," she said, as if he'd forgotten. But tears welled up in her eyes, the first sign of weakness she'd been willing to showcase in his presence. He'd obviously been far too distracted by his major cardiac incident to remember her breakdown.

"I know Mom," he said a smile tugging at his lips at her frankness. "But this woman is dangerous, and she might try and hurt you…"

"She's trying to hurt _you_…"

"She'll only use you to hurt me more," Reid replied, taking her hands carefully in his own, held them as if they were fragile pieces of china, as though he feared he would break her. "It would hurt me more than anything to see her harm you or Dad," he said, looking up momentarily at his father. "My team is already putting themselves in harm's way for me…I don't want you to do the same. Please, Mom."

"Spencer…"

"He's right, Diana," William cut in. "As much as I hate to say it, as much as I hate to leave, Spencer is right. She'll only use us to hurt him further. We're endangering him."

Diana held William's gaze for a few moments, contemplating his words, before looking back at her son.

"You're always in danger with this job, Spencer," she said, squeezing his hand. "I never expected someone from the past to be the biggest threat to your safety. But you must promise me that you'll do everything your team instructs, and that you will listen to your doctors, and that you will call me _every day_ until this dreadful thing is over."

"Yes," he said, feeling his own strength starting to fall apart at the seams. "Yes, I promise."

"But we're staying until the morning, because I won't be robbed of one more night," Diana amended. "I'm sure Penelope can look up flights for us."

"I sure can Ms. R," Garcia said, momentarily looking up from her screen to smile at Diana, then looking once again at Reid with worry. Ever since his cardiac arrest she'd hardly been able to take her eyes off him, as if she feared his life would suddenly slip away without warning.

"Thanks Garcia," he said, meeting her eyes with a small smile, hoping to reassure her. He was relieved beyond measure that Dr. House had discovered the correct diagnosis, that the team had found Dr. Chase alive…but the fact was, Kelly was still out there, still able to strike at him or his loved ones at any given moment. He just _wished_ he could think more clearly, wished he could participate in the profiles at least, but the combination of the different medications, the pain, the absolute exhaustion, and not to mention the heart attack, left him unable to do so. Hotch had been insistent that Reid rest and leave it them, but even still, his mind was running in circles.

"You need to get some rest, baby," Diana said smoothing his hair back from his head as she had when he was a child. "Your father and I will be right here when you wake up."

Reid tried to fight against it, but he already felt his eyelids growing heavy, his chest aching from the paddles that had shocked his heart back into rhythm. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied Rossi and Gideon seated on either side of the door like guard dogs, prepared if anything should go awry. He felt his father lightly stroking his hair as he slipped into unconsciousness, his mother resting one of her hands over his own.

* * *

><p>Cuddy entered the OR observation room quietly, her eyes fixed on the cane-wielding man who stood in front of the glass. She had just passed Wilson practically dragging Cameron down the hallway, insisting that there was nothing she could do in the observation room, and that she needed to eat something and then be ready for Chase when he got into the recovery room, because that would be when he needed her. Cuddy had witnessed Cameron's heartbreaking reunion with Chase in the ER, had watched as she stood by through the entire examination, only letting go of her husband's hand when it was absolutely necessary. They had only completed a preliminary exam, as the ER doctors had discovered some internal bleeding, and deemed that the knife wounds required an immediate exploratory laparotomy. A bag of O negative blood hung next to Chase, as well as IV antibiotics to stem any possible infection.<p>

"How is he?" Cuddy asked, coming up beside House, almost feeling as if she was intruding on a private moment. The events of the last several days had drained her of every last ounce of energy she possessed, and she fleetingly wondered if anything would ever be normal again.

"He's holding," House said, blue eyes flickering up to her. "They've managed to get the internal bleeding under control, and they got the transfusion started in time, but they're worried an infection might set in."

"What about the internal injuries?" Cuddy asked.

"She knows something about the human anatomy, so she missed his organs," House replied. "But those two wounds in his abdomen will take a few months to heal entirely, and all the smaller ones, especially the one across his collarbone area, will leave permanent scars. He has a concussion too…the wound indicates that his head was slammed against a wall."

Cuddy had known House for more than twenty years, and she recognized the rough, gravelly quality his voice took on when he was upset. It was rare that he even allowed himself to showcase such emotion in front of anyone, but his defenses were down; he had yet to speak about what had occurred when they'd found Chase, but she knew without a doubt that it had likely shocked the hell out of him, even if he would never admit such a thing. Suddenly, the machines below started screeching. For the first time, Cuddy noticed that Foreman had scrubbed in.

"He's hypertensive!" Foreman shouted.

The machines continued their cries of protest, and Cuddy felt the sound ringing in her ears.

House slammed his hand on the speaker button so hard Cuddy feared it would break.

"Hey, have any of you morons heard of nitroglycerin!" he shouted, eyes blazing with fury. "You know, that drug that _stops_ things like a hypertensive crisis!"

"Working on it, House," Foreman said, but his voice was much less harsh than Cuddy expected.

House moved to open his mouth again, but Cuddy dared to put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in mid-motion.

"House, you've got to let them do their job," she insisted, kindness in her tone.

"The kid can't exactly take anything else!" House exclaimed. "We're damn lucky we found him when we did, or it would have been too late, so excuse me if I think they need to work a little faster! I won't let them kill him out of pure idiocy. I already prevented that once when the stupid EMT didn't know how to handle a patient with Post Traumatic Stress…"

"Let's go to my office," Cuddy said without ceremony, pulling slightly on his hand as the machine beeped to signal that Chase's blood pressure was falling back to normal.

"You're not the boss of me Cuddy," House said, ripping his hand away.

"I am, actually," she said, firm. "You hindering them is just going to mean that Chase's abdomen is split open longer. _Now_."

House turned to gaze at her, and for a moment she thought she would burn up from the fiery intensity in his eyes. He pushed the button once again, speaking directly to Foreman.

"You let me know the moment he's out of surgery, or you're fired."

Foreman nodded in response, meeting Cuddy's eyes for a moment, practically begging her to get House of there so that the surgeons (two of which were good friends of Chase's from his two years in the department) could get on with their jobs. House turned to follow her out, and their trip down the elevator and into her office was a silent one. As soon as the door closed behind them, however, House spoke again.

"I need you to do me a favor," he said, returning the matter at hand. "I need you to draw blood from Chase to test for the Hepatitis viruses."

"Why?" Cuddy asked, tilting her head in confusion. "How would he have been subjected to those?"

"Don't be daft, Cuddy," he said, an unsurprising harshness in his tone. "You had to have noticed those bruises on his neck and his lips. I'm not going to go into detail because Chase asked me not to, but she did force him to kiss her, and saliva was exchanged. I don't know that she has them, but I want to take the precaution."

Cuddy watched as his fingers curled tightly around the top of his cane, sending all the blood to the tips of his fingers, turning them crimson.

She also noticed that he could barely restrain them from shaking like mad.

"You don't want to do it?" she asked.

"Cameron will want to know why the blood is being drawn, and she'll know I'm lying," House responded, finally looking up at her. "She won't expect you to lie to her."

"House, forced kissing qualifies as sexual assault," Cuddy argued. "Cameron will need to be told."

"Chase needs to be the one to tell her," House insisted, ever blunt. "Not you, not me, not any of the FBI agents. I may have to make him tell her, but he still needs to be the one."

He sat down on the couch, the mental, physical, and emotional weariness evident in the creased lines of his forehead, in the purple streaks under his eyes. He folded both hands on top of his cane, resting his head on them, and Cuddy could have sworn she saw a tinge of red lining the rims of his eyes, a distinct wetness on the surrounding skin. Throwing caution to the winds, Cuddy walked over and took a seat next to him.

"House?" she whispered, resting a timid hand on his arm. She'd seen House get passionately angry, she'd seen him express his emotions in the most twisted ways known to mankind, but the only time she'd seen even a hint of tears was when he'd come to her office as he'd realized that his hallucinations weren't going away, that day that Wilson had taken him to Mayfield. "It's perfectly normal to be upset, you know. We all care about Chase, and he's worked with you for years…"

"Yeah," House said sharply, lifting his head up. There were no tears trailing down his face, but his eyes were undeniably red-rimmed. "Let's see how much good me getting upset about it will help," he sniped, his tone thick with unchecked rage.

Most people might have been turned away by this sort of behavior, but it was simply how House was, and Cuddy had learned to adapt.

"He's going to be alright," she said, still not removing her hand from his arm. "The agents found him in time."

"Sure," House said, bitterness flooding his voice. "His physical wounds will heal. What about the psychological torture that psychotic bitch put him through? What about _that_, Cuddy?"

"Cameron will be there for him," Cuddy answered, remaining calm. "We all will. You will."

House huffed as though disbelieving, but the soft, almost unnoticeable squeeze he gave her arm indicated otherwise. Before they could speak another word, there was a knock on the door and Hotch entered, his frustration obvious.

"Agent Hotchner," Cuddy said, rising to greet him, feeling her stomach churn at his expression. "What's happened?"

"We haven't been able to find Kelly at either of the other two addresses in the Princeton records," he said, running a hand over his face in irritation. "One was occupied by a family, and the second is on the market, but we've got uniforms guarding them in any case."

"So what you're saying is that it's a waiting game?" House said, standing now. "Then just say that."

"I'm afraid so," Hotch responded, ignoring House's swipe. Cuddy could see the guilt, could see the desire to catch this woman simply in the way the unit chief held himself; every muscle was rigid, tense, and he looked prepared to pull out his weapon at a moment's notice. "But we'll have guards outside Dr. Chase's room until she's caught." He glanced at Cuddy, then fixed his eyes on the ornery doctor to her right.

"Our profile of Kelly is solid, and it's been given to all the law-enforcement agencies in the area, and to the press," he said, obviously building up to something, and Cuddy curled up her toes in apprehension. "But with Dr. Cameron's permission, we'll need to interview Dr. Chase as soon as he's able." The way he was looking at House however, suggested that he was also looking for House's approval, likely Cuddy surmised, so as prevent any further chaos from injecting itself into this mess.

For a moment it looked as if House might throw a punch, but Cuddy could see the cogs working behind his eyes, could see them rationally processing Hotch's request, knowing that it would be best for the investigation, would give the BAU the best chance at catching this woman who had caused such havoc and near tragedies in all their lives.

"He'll be out for at least a couple of hours after they're done with the laparotomy, but if you want anything coherent, I'd wait until tomorrow. He's on morphine, lorazepam, and he's exhausted." House groused, protective of his employee. "Cameron's not going to like it, but she wants the bitch caught. Not sure you'll be able to get her out of the room, though."

"I thought I'd have Prentiss do the interview," Hotch said, a quiet acknowledgement that a woman's presence might be more reassuring in Chase's situation, as well as the fact that Prentiss has been present when they rescued him, so there would be a certain level of trust already established.

"I'll be in my office," House said suddenly, signaling that the conversation was over. "Cuddy, let me know when you get those blood test results."

Cuddy nodded in response, watching as he walked down the hall, his limp much more pronounced than usual.

* * *

><p>A few hours later, House found himself standing outside Chase's room, eyes peering through the glass, yet he couldn't quite make his feet move forward to enter. Social etiquette would demand that he comfort Cameron or sit by the bedside, but he was admittedly terrible at such niceties and knew it would be a while before he went inside, and he would certainly do it when no one else was there. Chase was sedated under the intoxicating influence of Morphine and Lorazepam, but he didn't look the least bit peaceful. Cameron's back was to the glass, her forehead resting on her husband's shoulder, one hand holding onto his for dear life, as though afraid he would slip away if she loosened her grip. House leaned heavily on his cane, his mind flashing to the words he'd said to Cameron when they'd treated the agoraphobic patient last year. He'd been snarky at the time, but the full gravity, the irony of those words, hit him as he gazed at the bruised face of his long-time fellow.<p>

_"Oh right, you're that girl who likes broken people, and since Chase isn't all that broken…"_

He'd meant that then; Chase hadn't been broken. He'd been cracked of course, severely so. Having your father abandon the family, leaving you to care for your alcoholic mother and your baby sister, then watching your mother wither away before your eyes, tended to cause irreparable damage to a person's soul. Add to that your own father neglecting to tell you he was dying and then inexplicably cutting you from his will, and most anyone would have lost it. But Chase had never allowed himself to shatter, hadn't really ever had the opportunity; if he had, he never would have been able to take care of his mother and sister, never would have been able to graduate from medical school, never would have possessed the courage to move across the world for a prestigious fellowship.

Chase had held the pieces of himself together for so long with a combination of determination and scotch tape, but now…now he looked wholly broken. He flashed back to Chase's shouts of pain when they'd finally found him and released him from the shackles, remembered the younger man seizing his shirtsleeves and burying his head in his chest, remembered the fragmented sobs that had overcome him when Cameron rushed to him in the ER, the sobs that didn't cease even when he realized House, Foreman, Cuddy, the ER staff, and part of the BAU were all watching him. While there was usually always evidence of Chase's emotions in his eyes, he was unceasingly good at being aloof if he wished it, always careful to conceal himself unless he truly wanted to open up to someone. House had never expected to see him in such a state, and it unnerved him. The sound of soft footsteps interrupted his musings, and he turned his head to see Reid standing there, IV pole and all.

"You shouldn't be up," he said without turning around.

"I wanted to see how Dr. Chase was doing," Reid protested, coming to stand next to him. "I hoped to talk to him, but I see he's still asleep."

"So ask someone how he is," House responded. "You're getting better, but you're _not_ well. In case you're forgetting, you had a heart attack a few hours ago. Oh, and that lunatic is still after you."

"I wanted to see for myself."

It was silent for a few moments as each man looked upon the sleeping Chase and the oblivious Cameron, who House was certain had fallen asleep in that position.

"He _will_ be okay," Reid said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not tomorrow, not the next day, and probably not for quite some time. But he'll be okay."

"Because you were so okay after you got kidnapped and tortured that you developed a drug habit," House snapped. "Don't get me wrong, that's a pretty good excuse if I ever heard one, but it clearly messed you up."

"I overcame it," Reid shot back calmly, meeting House's eyes. "I'll never forget what happened and it will always in some sense, haunt me. But I realized I couldn't let it destroy me. I have confidence that Dr. Chase won't either."

"What makes you say that?" House questioned.

"Because he has something to live for," Reid replied. "That's the key. Having something to live for, even the smallest thing, can make make a person come back from the most hellish experience. Wounds don't heal completely, but they do at least, fade. Chase has Cameron, his job, his friends, all of you here."

"He won't be the same," House said. It wasn't a question, but a firm statement of the truth.

"No," Reid answered, a distinct tinge of melancholy entering his tone as he shook his head. "No he won't."

Quiet soaked the air as the two men stood together, both their brains whirring with their own private thoughts.

"In any case," House added. "He'd better not quit. I so don't feel like hiring a new employee. And if he quits Cameron will quit and that would be a serious pain in the ass. Foreman's not all that much fun. Technically Chase and Cameron are just on loan, but I can change that; I like having my old team back together, and the ER and surgery can just find replacements."

Reid laughed, and House glanced at him indignantly.

"What's so funny Doogie Howser?" he questioned.

"You try so hard to act like you don't care," Reid said. "But you're pretty obvious. You care about Dr. Chase. A lot. And you care about Dr. Cameron, Dr. Wilson, Dr. Foreman, Dr. Cuddy..."

"Stop profiling me," House interrupted. "And prove it."

"Don't need to," Reid said with an exhausted grin, turning away and starting to head back toward his room. "You standing here does that all by itself."

* * *

><p>Emily felt lost.<p>

She sat next to a sleeping Reid's bed, JJ, across from her in the other chair with one hand folded over Reid's, apparently completely lost in thought. They had searched every address possible looking for Kelly, had an incredibly specific profile which pinpointed that she wouldn't leave the area, but despite that, they couldn't find her. Even more frustrating was that Kelly's life shortly after leaving Cal-Tech was a blank page…clearly she had found some way not to leave a paper trail, or had otherwise erased the records. Morgan had hypothesized that perhaps she had been institutionalized and released, and had done away with the records somehow, which Emily knew she was more than capable of.

That being said, Hotch, Rossi, and Morgan were busy making phone calls to all the psychiatric institutions in the surrounding area, while Garcia had gone to fetch some food for the group, and the Princeton P.D. were out patrolling each of the locations they'd pinpointed. Strauss had been calling Hotch's phone repeatedly, demanding to know what progress was being made. Emily and JJ meanwhile, had been assigned their turns in Reid's room, which Emily had been glad to accept. Her eyes traced every inch of Reid's face, which was scrunched up even in sleep, and he looked far from peaceful. His parents had left a little over an hour ago (Gideon was driving them to the Newark airport) and in the end had caused Diana to experience another mild episode, and Reid had been visibly upset. She'd calmed down before the final goodbye, but it was obvious she was shaken. William had simply looked lost, his eyes overcome with melancholy. Reid had been right to make them go to protect their safety, but it had still been difficult, and he'd fallen asleep soon after their departure. JJ's voice broke through the quiet, pulling Emily from her thoughts.

"We _will_ find her, Em," she said, ever the hopeful one in spite of the horrors they so often witnessed. It was one of the things that Emily loved and appreciated the most about her friend.

"I know," Emily replied, eyes meeting JJ's before falling back on Reid's face. "I just hope we catch her before anything else happens…to Dr. Chase, to us…to Reid."

"The profile says she has to finish this," JJ said, but Emily could hear the unrestrained fear attempting to rip its claws through her optimism. "If we don't find her, she'll come to us."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Emily said, daring to admit her most prevalent concern. "I know we'll take every precaution, but we can't predict everything. I just…I don't want her _touching_ him…I don't want her getting within ten feet of him. She almost killed him, and if it hadn't been for Dr. House, she would have succeeded."

Both women paused, unable to fully contemplate that particular horror: saying what had nearly been a goodbye before the doctors had put Reid into the coma had threatened to send every last one of them spiraling. Emily watched as JJ squeezed Reid's hand tighter, her own emotions pooling in her stomach and pushing acrid bile up her throat. Where was that compartmentalization JJ had pointed out when Reid had been in the clutches of Tobias Hankel? But Reid had been through _enough_, and this instance was the final straw. She'd be damned if she let Kelly get near him, but a small voice in the back of her head warned her that situations like this were unpredictable at best, utterly chaotic at worst…

"She'll get to him over my dead body," JJ said, showcasing a rare moment of aggression. She smiled slightly, looking up at Emily. "Will said earlier if he were her, he'd keep as far away from me as possible. And I'll be damned if I have to go home and tell Henry he's lost his godfather."

"You're pretty intimidating when you want to be," Emily agreed, a small chuckle escaping her lips. "But you always manage to see the light in the darkness, don't you? That's pretty impressive in this job. You and Garcia both."

Hotch entered the room before JJ could respond, looking more haggard than he had two hours ago.

"Dr. Chase is ready for you to interview him," he said, eyes roving over the sleeping Reid. "I can fill in for you here for a little while."

"Any luck with the institutions?" JJ asked, rubbing small circles across the skin of Reid's hand, almost looking as if she was doing it unconsciously.

"Not yet," Hotch sighed, shaking his head. "But we all know how hard it can be to even get them to divulge that kind of information. But Rossi and Morgan are still trying." He turned to Emily. "Dr. Cameron is understandably very protective of Dr. Chase right now, but she doesn't know the extent of everything that happened, and I'm not sure if Dr. Chase wants her to know, so you'll have to judge the situation as it happens."

"Yes sir," Emily said, brushing a hand across Reid's forehead before exiting and making her way quickly to Dr. Chase's room.

Upon reaching it she paused, taking in the scene before her. Dr. Chase was sitting up slightly against the plethora of pillows that Dr. Cameron had obviously retrieved. He was wearing light green surgical scrubs rather than the standard issue hospital gown, which she had seen Dr. Foreman taking to his room earlier when she'd returned with decent coffee for the team. Dr. Cameron was grasping his hand and talking softly with him, but distress was evident in her delicate features. Emily rapped on the glass, alerting the two of them to her presence, and at Chase's defeated looking nod, she entered.

"Hi there," she said, sitting gingerly on the edge of an empty chair and making eye contact with each of them before focusing on Chase. "How are you feeling?"

She regretted asking almost as soon as the words had left her mouth; a bandage was wrapped around his head to protect the gash Kelly had put there, and practically his entire abdomen was also wrapped in white gauze, the blood that still seeped through visible beneath the thin fabric of the scrubs.

"I've been better," he answered simply.

Emily nodded, eyes darting quickly to Cameron's face before continuing.

"I just wanted to ask you a few questions about…her," she said, refraining from using Kelly's name for reasons she couldn't quite explain to herself. "Anything you can tell us might help in catching her. Even the littlest thing."

Chase nodded, any remaining light in his eyes extinguished at the mere mention of talking about the ordeal he'd experienced. He turned to Cameron, agony etched into every line on his face.

"Why don't you go get some coffee, babe?" he suggested. "Agent Prentiss and I will be done in a few minutes. No need for you to sit through this."

Cameron furrowed her eyebrows, looking bewildered.

"Robert," she protested, a clear tremor in her voice. "I want to be here with you through this." She looked at Emily, almost pleading for a reason to stay.

"It might make re-living this easier," Emily suggested, seeing a hint of anger flare in Chase's eyes at her words, which wasn't unexpected.

"I don't want you to have to hear what she did to me," Chase said, looking back at Cameron. "There's no need to put you through that."

"Stop worrying about me," she argued. "This is about you, and I'll do whatever you need me to. What don't you want me to know, love? I promise, whatever she did, it doesn't make a difference to our relationship. If I'm going to help you get through this, I need to know what happened."

Chase looked away from his wife and back to Emily, the anger replaced with fear. But Emily could tell that a part of him desperately wanted to be honest with Cameron, desperately wanted to unburden himself. His blue-green eyes were wide as he looked at her, and his entire body started trembling. Almost out of instinct, Emily ran a hand up and down his back as she'd done when they'd rescued him.

"It's okay, Dr. Chase," she whispered. "You're safe here."

"Should I go?" Cameron questioned, starting to stand up but still not letting go of her husband's hand. "If it's going to upset him to tell me I don't want to…"

"No," Chase said, his voice barely audible. "No. Stay."

Cameron sat back down wordlessly, scooting as close as possible to the hospital bed, eyes fixed on Chase's face.

"She…she made me kiss her," he said, looking down as his hands grasped the covers into wads.

Emily looked to Cameron, whose own eyes had widened, her breath growing rapid, but she remained quiet and allowed Chase to continue, squeezing his hand tighter.

"She kept…she kept teasing me, kept touching my face and running her hands up and down my chest…everywhere. She straddled me and started kissing my neck…" he forced the words out one by one, each one sounding more painful. "She kept acting like she was going to undress me, but she didn't." He looked up at Cameron, and Emily found her heart breaking for him. "And she made me kiss her…really kiss her. That's why Cuddy had to get the blood, House wanted to check and make sure she didn't give me any of the Hepatitis viruses. I'm sorry, Allison, I'm sorry, but the said she would kill…"

"Shh," Cameron said, wrapping her arms around him. "It's okay babe, it's okay. She's an evil, nasty woman, and don't you dare blame yourself for anything she did." Emily watched as she took Chase's face in her hands, looking him directly in the eyes. "We will get through this together."

Chase nodded, closing his eyes briefly in relief before visibly steeling himself and turning back to Emily.

"What do you need to know?" he asked.

"Anything you can remember about what she said, what she did," Emily said, encouraged by this sudden turn. He was still broken by what had happened, but he also wanted to help put the woman who had tortured him behind bars.

"She changed her appearance while I was there," Chase began. "She went from long blonde hair to short brown hair, and she changed her eye color with contacts… she mentioned what her appearance was like when she went to school with Dr. Reid, if that's helpful."

"Yes," Prentiss, nodded, uncapping her pen. "Yes, that's very helpful."

"She said she was overweight, that she had auburn hair, and she said how much Dr. Reid would regret not asking her out when he saw how beautiful she was now," he said. "That she would make him pay. It was as if she changed her appearance just for him, like she loved and hated him all at the same time. She was always talking about how jealous she was of him, jealous of all the times he won an award and she didn't, said that she'd been the star before he came."

Prentiss nodded, urging him to go on, making a note to let get Garcia to locate an older picture of Kelly to release to the press, and mock-up of what she might look like now with that same shade of hair color.

"She was easily angered, volatile," he said, eyes swimming with the memories of what she'd done, his free hand that wasn't wrapped in Cameron's resting on his abdomen, almost as if he could feel the knife slicing through. He hesitated.

"Take your time," Emily said, ever gentle. "I know how difficult this is."

Chase swallowed, tears gathering in his eyes despite his obvious effort at keeping them back. He already looked tired.

"She kept saying I was a pawn, that I was insignificant, that no one cared enough to come and save me from her. She took…she took so much pleasure in causing me pain," he whispered, holding Cameron's hand tighter. "She kept telling me about her past with Dr. Reid, about how she gave him every sign that she wanted more than friendship, about how dense he was, about how he rejected her…she's obsessed with him, but she also thinks he stole her chance at success." He looked up at Emily, meeting her eyes directly for more than just a few seconds for the time since she'd entered. "But if I know anything, she won't give this up. She'll do anything to get her hands on Dr. Reid."

"She spiraled toward the end, didn't she?" Prentiss questioned, eyes falling to Chase's heavily bandaged chest, her urge to break every bone in Kelly's body rising to the surface once more.

"Yes," he said the ghosts of his ordeal dancing a sinister jig in shadows across his eyes. "I hardly even remember those last few minutes…the pain…"

"I think I've got enough to go on," Emily said, unhindered kindness in her voice. "You've been a great help." She rested a hand on his shoulder. "And you're an incredibly brave man. "This woman is all about power and control, and you withstood her." She looked in his eyes, seeing the shattered pieces of his soul strewn across the sea-colored irises. "Don't let her get inside your head. And give yourself time to heal, okay?"

Chase nodded, but as he was about to respond his eyes flickered toward the door, where someone was waiting, wheelchair, IV pole, and all.

It was Reid.

A/N: Sorry for the sort of weird cliffhanger, but I wanted to give the conversation between Reid and Chase its proper due, and so decided to save it for the next chapter, as Reid is going to tell Chase about his ordeal with Tobias Hankel. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	17. Variation 16

Variation on a Theme

A Criminal Minds/House, M.D. Crossover

A/N: Hi all! First, let me apologize for the HUGE posting delay and my failure to answer reviews as of late. I was studying for my comprehensive exam for my master's, and that was pretty much my entire life over the past weeks, especially because I'm also taking classes and working. But I took them on Saturday, so now I'm back to my regular schedule, which is a giant relief and gives me more writing time! Anyhow, I do hope you enjoy this chapter, and let me know what you think! And again, thank you for all of the wonderful support this story has received, because it keeps me writing!

Chapter 17: Variation 16

_Do you hear the people sing/Lost in the valley of the night/It is the music of a people who are climbing to the light/For the wretched of the earth/There is a flame that never dies/Even the darkest night will end/And the sun will rise." ~ Les Miserables_

One of the Princeton P.D. officers stationed outside Chase's room slid the door open for Reid, who had been forced (under protest) into a wheelchair. He toted his IV pole as well, and it had been a bit of a chore convincing JJ to let him leave his room.

"I'll be back in forty-five minutes Spence," she said from the doorway, still looking unsure as she met Prentiss' eyes. "Promise me you won't leave this room?"

"I promise, Jayje," he said, shooting her a benevolent smile as Prentiss rose from her chair. "I just wanted to speak with Dr. Chase."

"Thanks for all your help," Prentiss said to Chase, an honest sincerity in her voice. "I know how difficult it was."

"Anything to catch her," he responded, and Reid looked up to see the ghosts of his time with Kelly clouding Chase's eyes.

Prentiss walked by Reid, silently brushing his cheek with her hand before exiting with JJ, leaving Cameron, Chase, and Reid alone. Cameron stood, noticing that Reid was shaking from the effort of trying to wheel his chair and his IV pole, and situated him near the side of the bed.

"Thanks," he said, settling himself back against the chair. He searched Chase's face. "How are you feeling?"

"I should be asking you the same thing," Chase responded softly, not quite meeting Reid's eyes. "I heard about the heart attack."

"The meds are working now at least," Reid replied, instinctively touching his chest. "You and House had the right diagnosis. I heard they had to send you into surgery?"

"There was some internal bleeding," Chase answered. "And a significant amount of blood loss."

"But they caught it in time," Cameron piped up, her voice a bit higher than normal, which Reid surmised was due to anxiety. He watched as her eyes fell on the bandages, which were visible beneath the light green scrubs, some spots stained with drops of blood; Reid knew there must be countless stitches and sutures beneath that white gauze, his eyes flickering up to the machines which monitored Chase's blood pressure and heart rate, a bag of IV antibiotics to prevent infection, as well as a morphine drip.

"Babe," Chase said after a few moments of silence. "Why don't you go to the cafeteria and get some coffee or something? You haven't been out of this room for hours."

Reid remained quiet, watching the exchange between the couple.

"Honey, I'm fine, really," Cameron said, squeezing Chase's hand and looking a bit perplexed. "I'd rather be here with you."

"I'm really okay, I promise," Chase replied, and Reid noticed the Intensivist's muscles tensing up, his proverbial emotional shield erecting itself around his vulnerable mind and heart. "Dr. Reid and I are just going to chat for a bit."

Cameron's face fell, but although Chase looked immediately apologetic, he didn't back down. When he didn't retract his words, a trace of frustration entered her voice.

"Alright then," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "I guess I'll go where I'm actually needed."

Her words were passive aggressive, a tactic Reid knew well. There was some kind of unspoken struggle between Chase and Cameron, a struggle which clearly called back to a vulnerable piece of their relationship, perhaps, Reid surmised, to something in the past which they'd fought to overcome. He silently cursed Kelly in his head, hating her for creating a rift between this kind, determined couple who had helped save his life.

"It's _not_ that I don't need you," Chase pressed, trying to convince her. "It's just…"

"It's just _what_?" Cameron interrupted, hand grasping the bed railing so hard her knuckles turned stark white.

"This isn't something you can _fix_, Allison," Chase said through clenched teeth. He wasn't shouting, but the emphasis on a single word was clear enough. He looked as if he regretted his words, but instead of speaking again, looked down at his sheets and avoided his wife's eyes.

Cameron's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't strike back.

"I'll come back when Agent Jareau comes for Dr. Reid," she said, keeping her tone even. "Is that alright?"

Chase looked up again, nodding in response. Out of habit, Cameron leaned down to place a swift kiss on her husband's lips. He closed his eyes, but nothing less than sheer terror was written upon his countenance, and Reid's eyes fell on his bruised lips and neck, putting the pieces together. Cameron froze, her lips a centimeter from Chase's, and turned instead to gently kiss his cheek. Chase ghosted a hand across hers, unable to initiate any other contact. With a final small smile for Reid, Cameron exited the room. Silence fell between the two men, each temporarily lost in his own thoughts, each feeling varying degrees of brokenness in his soul.

"I understand why you're doing this," Reid said, a prominent kindness in his tone. "But you've got to let her back in eventually."

Chase looked up, meeting Reid's gaze directly. His breath was hitched, and his hands shook enough to be noticeable.

"I know," he answered, voice barely audible. "But my willingness to be vulnerable in front of people…that's only just returned over the past few years." The barest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. "For a long time, the only person I ever showed weakness in front of was my best mate Andrew from Australia and my old parish priest…certain things that happened within my family made me decide that it was easier just to keep my emotions completely private. If I didn't let people in, they couldn't…" Chase stopped, deciding to go in a new direction. "Allison worked hard to make me open up, and in his own demented way, House did too. Foreman as well, to some extent. But now…" unshed tears glistened as he swiped furiously at his eyes, his voice failing him. "Now…"

Reid scooted his chair a bit closer to the bed, feeling his own emotions rise to the surface, memories he'd rather not recall swirling around in his brain. But he had decided to do this, had decided to share his own story with Dr. Chase, and he wasn't going to back down.

"I understand," he said, sincerity in every fiber of his being, his hand gathering and releasing the fabric of his hospital gown. "I've been where you've been."

Chase paused, eyes intent on Reid's face. At first he looked bewildered, surprised, then Reid watched as the puzzles pieces flew together behind his eyes.

"The Dilaudid addiction," Chase replied, his voice strengthening a bit. "It was because something like this happened to you?"

"Yes," Reid said, feeling his heart beat grow quicker. He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply before continuing. "The man who kidnapped me-Tobias Hankel-he drugged me heavily with it over the course of two days, and then…" Reid hesitated, but forced himself to be truthful. "When the team found me, I…I took the bottles of Dilaudid."

"You don't have to tell me this," Chase started to say.

"I want to," Reid interrupted, firm. "Because when it happened to me, _all_ I wanted was to know someone else had emotionally survived something similar to what I experienced, to know that eventually, the pain and the nightmares would taper off." His eyes flickered upward. "I wanted to know I wasn't alone."

A moment of almost tangible understanding passed between the two men who were bonded together by circumstance and painful experience. Despite their short acquaintance, Reid felt the bonds of friendship forming between them, finding himself trusting a man he'd met just under a week ago, and trust was not something he gave out easily. Until the team that had become his family had come along, the only people he'd fully trusted were his mother and his old friend Ethan; everyone else was kept at arm's length.

"Tell me what happened," Chase said, his tone brimming with empathy, yet a desperation to hear Reid's story was also evident. He not only wanted to hear that someone else had put their life back together after such an ordeal, he _needed_ to hear it.

Reid breathed in deeply, unsurprised that telling this story still affected him so very strongly…the idea that Kelly was still at large did nothing to ease his anxiety. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, clearing his head and trying to still his heart.

"We had a case in Atlanta three years ago," Reid began, keeping his eyes on the man across from him. "A religious, mission-based killer. We initially thought it was three different men, and Hotch sent JJ and me out to interview a man named Tobias Hankel, who we thought had seen the unsub…it turned out that he was the unsub, and he suffered from dissociative personality disorder."

Chase's eyes widened.

"I split up from JJ," Reid said, regretting it even now. "And ran into the cornfield. He hit me in the head with his gun, knocking me out, and the next thing I knew, I was tied to a chair with rope, shackles around my hands, and blood all over the side of my head."

"How…" Chase hesitated slightly, but continued. "How long were you there?"

"Two days," Reid responded, his voice growing thin. "But it felt more like ten years. Tobias kept switching between himself, his father, and a third personality that was meant to be the archangel Raphael. The Tobias personality drugged me with Dilaudid because he thought it would help me escape what his 'father' was putting me through."

Reid paused, memories of watching the screens as Tobias slaughtered a couple before his very eyes, a horror which had transcended even the monumental amount of physical pain he'd been in. "The father's personality beat me until I just went numb, he pounded my ankle with a piece of wood, he played Russian Roulette with a gun pointed to my head…he made my dig my own grave, and was planning on burying me alive…he made me watch on screens as he slaughtered innocent people. For a few minutes, until he gave me CPR, I was actually dead…" he trailed off, clenching his hands into fists as emotions long buried bubbled to the surface. "After it was over, I'd never felt more alone in my life."

Chase was quiet for a moment, and Reid looked up at him, surveying the mixed emotions cascading across his face. Irrational as he knew it was, guilt flooded through him; here was this innocent man, forced to become a pawn in Kelly's sick game, and he felt responsible, since he was her real target.

"What happened to me," Chase began, softly, catching Reid's attention. "It wasn't your fault."

"Logically, I know that," Reid replied, looking back up at Chase. "But I still can't help but feel a bit responsible."

"I'll never be the same, will I?" Chase asked, fear in his voice.

"No," Reid said. "There will always be scars from what you've been through. But in the end, you're still you. And I know that right now, you think you'll never feel happy again, but one day you'll realize that you _are_ happy again, and it happened without you even noticing."

Chase didn't reply immediately, and Reid felt a specific sort of terror emanating from him, a terror he'd felt himself.

"The people who love you won't leave you because of this," Reid said, gentleness in every trace of voice.

"They always have before," Chase said, seemingly before he could stop himself, bitterness evident in his tone.

"I felt that way too," Reid said. "But my team never left me. I yelled at Prentiss, snapped at Morgan, I tried to push them all away from me, but I was the only one who thought I succeeded at that endeavor. Because they always came looking for me when I ran. Gideon found me in a bar in New Orleans, because he sensed something was wrong with me, and each one of them found a way to let me know they were there for me, even if I thought I didn't want them to be, because they hadn't experienced what I'd been through." Reid paused, a memory marching to the front of his mind. "But the night I found myself on my bathroom floor vomiting from Dilaudid withdrawal, and Morgan and JJ were right beside me, I knew I couldn't do it alone."

"I'm just so damned angry!" Chase exclaimed, grasping the covers tightly and twisting them into knots. "I can't close my eyes without seeing her straddling me with that knife in her hand, running her hands all over my body, taunting me and telling me that no one would ever find me…I'm constantly afraid she'll walk in that door, and my body feels like it's on fire…" he struggled with his words, clearly fighting the wave of emotion crashing mercilessly down upon him. "I can feel the cold metal piercing my skin, I remember feeling that darkness she left me in enveloping me…I can't even kiss my wife because all I feel are that _woman's_ lips on mine…I…"

Whatever Chase's next words were died in his throat, instead producing a gut-wrenching sob that half-sounded like a scream…a sound that was utterly out of his control. At this, Reid felt emotion well up in his throat, and he reached out to place a steadying hand on Chase's arm, letting him give into his pain, but wishing heartily that he could take it away.

"God, I'm sorry," Chase said after a few moments. "I shouldn't…"

"You _should_," Reid said, resolute as he gave Chase's arm a comforting squeeze before drawing his hand back. "You've been through hell. And sometimes you can't control when that emotion comes. When I was in the hospital after Tobias, I woke up from a nightmare, and only Gideon was in the room. I woke up terrified, screaming, and I couldn't stop for several minutes."

"It's just…" Chase paused, catching his breath. "Allison is going to want to fix this, she'll just want to make it better instantly, and that can't happen. I don't want to push her away…I _need_ her…but this isn't black and white."

Reid hesitated for a moment, pondering a question he'd been curious about.

"If you don't mind my asking, did Dr. Cameron lose a husband before?" Reid asked.

Chase nodded. "She did…to cancer. She was only 21 when it happened. She met him just after he was diagnosed, actually. His name was William."

"She couldn't fix that," Reid said. "And this time she was doubly terrified: both of losing you, and anticipating having to experience a pain she knows all too well, so it makes sense that she wants to fix this, just because she's afraid she'll lose you, even if you're safe now."

"She won't lose me."

"Reassure her of that," Reid replied. "And just let her know how're you really feeling, and that it's messy, and it's complicated. I kept my emotions dulled and bottled up until they exploded, and that was my biggest mistake. Your friends here all care about you: Dr. Foreman, Dr. Wilson, Dr. Cuddy, Dr. House, and especially Dr. Cameron. I saw her while you were gone, and she would have done anything in the world to get you back," Reid said, locking eyes with Chase, who was listening intently. "I know it's terrifying, but you've got to let her in, even if it's a rollercoaster."

Chase met his eyes, clearly soaking in the information, and Reid saw the smallest flicker of light within the blue green orbs.

"The people we love just want so badly to make our pain go away," Reid continued. "That they'll do anything to try and fix the problem. But what I eventually realized I needed to tell my team, what you need to tell Dr. Cameron, is that even though they can't fix the problem, they can be by our side when the pain is overwhelming, just so we know we don't have to go through this alone."

A mere hint of a smile appeared on Chase's face. "I think I can tell her that," he said softly.

"Feeling all that pain, letting those memories flood your mind when they come is terrifying," Reid said. "But letting them come, being honest with yourself, that's better than keeping it bottled up. You'll feel all kinds of things at once; sad, angry, lost, scared, but that doesn't make you crazy…it just means you're trying to cope. There's no easy answer to dealing with any of this, but I wanted you to know that you _will_ be okay, and if you ever needed anyone to talk to who's been through this, well, I hear the phone line between Jersey and DC works pretty well. The postal system too."

"Thank you," Chase said, his gratitude apparent in his expression. "I'll probably take you up on that."

Quiet fell for a few moments, and Reid contemplated the man before him, a rush of sickening melancholy overcoming him. He knew that with Chase's support system that he would push through this, but he hated the fact that he had to go through it in the first place. If Kelly was capable of being so merciless toward Chase, there was no telling what she might do if she got her hands on one of the team, and that frightened him more than being kidnapped by her himself.

"The nightmares," Chase questioned suddenly. "Do they ever go away?"

"They fade in time," Reid reassured him. "You just have to remind yourself when you wake up that you're safe."

"I'm betting I'll leave a light on," Chase said, the ghost of a joke in his tone.

"I always leave a light on," Reid said, his lips curving upward in a smile.

Before either one could say another word, the door slid open.

"Hey!" House said, irate. "Just what are you doing out of your bed, boy genius?"

"What it looks like I'm doing?" Reid questioned, raising his eyebrows.

"So you're a smartass," House said. "I should have figured." His eyes turned to Chase, and Reid heard his tone soften ever so slightly. "You're awake."

"A very astute observation," Chase said.

"Where's your shadow?" House asked, referring to Cameron.

"In the cafeteria," Chase answered. "I told her she needed to get out of the room for a bit, clear her head."

"Uh huh," House said, settling himself down into a chair, obviously privy to Chase's line of thinking. "So," he said to Reid. "Did you forget you had a heart attack yesterday? That you almost died?"

"I just wanted to talk to Dr. Chase," Reid answered, quirking one eyebrow.

"Shouldn't you have a babysitter other than the two cops outside?" House asked. "Where's your posse?"

"They're busy calling mental hospitals to see if Kelly was recently released, and Garcia is searching arrest records. JJ is coming back for me in about ten minutes."

"Well, I've got a show coming on in about five, so guess you two will be watching with me," he said, grabbing the remote from the bedside table.

"I thought you didn't visit patients," Chase commented, tilting his head slightly, a small smirk playing at his lips.

"Have I taught you _nothing_?" House asked dramatically. "Everybody lies."

* * *

><p>JJ wasn't surprised when she saw Cameron enter the hospital cafeteria. Cameron glanced in her direction, and JJ waved her over.<p>

"Hi there," JJ said in greeting. She pushed aside the second cup of coffee she'd brought along in anticipation of just this. "Coffee?"

"Sure," Cameron said, obviously trying very hard to maintain a semblance of sanity.

"Where's Dr. Foreman?" JJ asked, feeling she should ease into the unspoken subject at hand.

"I told him to go home to shower and at least take a nap," Cameron said, a small smile on her face. "What with Dr. Reid's condition finally starting to stabilize, and Chase being asleep for most of the past few hours, I could finally convince him. Wilson had to drive him home, though, or he would have fallen asleep at the wheel."

JJ was silent for a moment, watching as Cameron made to sip her coffee, looked at it, then put it back down.

"How are you?" JJ asked, warmth in her voice.

Cameron looked up, looking almost as if she'd forgotten JJ was there.

"I'm…well…I don't…"

"It's okay to say you're not okay," JJ reassured her. "It wouldn't make sense if you were."

Cameron breathed out slightly in relief, hands hugging the sides of the Styrofoam coffee cup.

"I just…I'm trying so hard to be strong for him, but I'm afraid if I break down I won't be able to put myself back together," she said, looking up at JJ. "And right now, I need to figure out how to put _Robert_ back together. But seeing him like this…"

"You avoiding how you feel won't help you help him," JJ said. "At least while you're out of the room, try to tell me what you're thinking."

"He practically pushed me out of the room," Cameron said, spurting the words out. "I just, I didn't know how to react to that, didn't know whether to push him or just let him be, and I don't know how to help him. He's right, I _can't_ fix this, but I want to do something, whatever he needs…"

"He's trying to process so much right now," JJ said, her heart aching for the woman across from her, knowing exactly how she was feeling. "The pain he's trying to deal with is so intense that he doesn't even know where to begin. Him pushing you away is partly protecting himself from allowing his mind to process that pain, but it's also him fearing that his emotions will frighten you off."

"We both worked so hard in learning to trust again," Cameron said, finally taking a sip of her lukewarm coffee. "I thought I worried about being vulnerable, but Robert…he was something else entirely. I don't him to revert back to that, especially not now."

"He won't," JJ said. "He needs you too much for that. It might be a battle at first, but I think Reid will help him along." JJ paused, the memory of Reid slamming windows shut in the conference room of a Houston police station as he snapped that the noise was too loud, face looking white as a sheet of paper, flashed through her mind. "Reid tried so hard to push us away after his ordeal with Tobias Hankel, and we were all so shaken by what had happened, so unprepared for his reaction even though we of all people should have known better, that we didn't know quite how to handle it. But we still tried to let him know we were there for him no matter what. It was an odd combination of being both being patient and being willing to push him, and eventually, he let us back in, and then he slowly started to emotionally recover. He's made of strong stuff, but sometimes a person has to break down before they can build themselves back up. Knowing that is important."

Cameron nodded, taking in what JJ was saying, but tears were starting to brim in her eyes, her hands starting to tremble. "What that woman put him through…I don't even know all of the details yet, but the wounds I saw when he was in the ER, all the blood that was caked on his skin…there's just no telling how terrified he was, how much pain he was in…"

She twisted her fingers through her hair, eyes staring at the table as the tears came forth. JJ instantly moved to Cameron's side of the booth, and without even thinking twice, wrapped her arms around the shaking woman.

"It's okay," JJ whispered, rubbing a hand up and down Cameron's back. "Let it out, Allison."

"He can't even sleep in peace," Cameron said, tears dripping down onto JJ's shirt. "He keeps having nightmares, and even with the morphine he's still in pain. Why did this have to happen to him? I just want to _kill_ that woman! I want to make her go through what she put him through. I love Robert more than I've ever loved anyone, and I just want to help him… I can't even give him a simple kiss right now, I can hardly touch him because of the memories it evokes of what that bitch did to him, and I just hate her for everything she did to him_…_"

Unable to articulate her words any longer, JJ hugged Cameron tighter.

"We'll get her," JJ said firmly. "Trust me when I tell you that my team will not give up. And Chase _will _be alright. It won't happen right away, and it will be a process full of ups and downs that don't always make sense, but you being for him after those nightmares, being there when the pain that he feels is too much for him to handle…that's what he needs you to do, that's what's important."

Cameron nodded into JJ's shoulder, breathing in deeply and trying to regain her composure. She pulled back, wiping her eyes, and JJ took both of her hands in her own.

"Robert has been through so much in his life, with everything that happened with his family," Cameron said, voice a smidge stronger now. "We were friends from the moment we started working for House, but before we started dating a few years ago I only knew a bare minimum about his past, but when he finally divulged everything to me…He deserves happiness more than anyone I know."

"Reid too," JJ replied, remembering Diana's screams when Reid was going through the heart attack, remembered seeing William desperately trying to calm her down. "I remember thinking how incredibly unfair it was that he had to go through that ordeal after the other things he's been through."

Cameron met her eyes again, and JJ felt a connection growing between them, similar to the one she was watching grow between Chase and Reid, a connection born out of a shared experience.

"I'm pretty positive that was what Dr. Reid went in to talk to Chase about. And from what I can tell about Dr. Reid, I'm betting it will help," she responded, relaxing a bit as her breath evened out. "I just didn't want him to have to go through anything else," Cameron continued. "And certainly not this…God, what a hell she put him through! But I'll do anything he needs me to do. Anything."

"I know you will," JJ said with a smile, squeezing Cameron's hands. "Just go back in there, hold his hand, and be there when he wakes up. I can guarantee that he wants you back in there already," JJ said, suddenly seeing Reid in his hospital bed after the ordeal in Georgia. She'd sat there for hours, refusing to move until he awoke, holding his hand until he opened his eyes for the first time. A startling fear had clouded his eyes, but upon seeing her face, he had calmed, realizing he was safe again, and JJ had no doubt that Cameron's presence would do the same for Chase.

"Thank you," Cameron said, finally smiling. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome," JJ said sincerely. "What do you say we go check in? It's about time for me to force Reid back to his room, and you can get back to Chase."

Cameron agreed, but as the two women swigged the last dregs of their coffee, Morgan came striding into the nearly empty cafeteria.

"What's up?" JJ asked, immediately knowing something had happened.

"Rossi found a lead at one of the institutions," Morgan said without pause. "I'll let him give you details, but she was involuntarily committed about three years after her parents died, we're working on the assumption that she murdered them, and then was released after two years. Garcia also did some digging and found an arrest record in California."

"Let's go get Reid, and let Cameron get back to Dr. Chase," JJ said. "And then let's get on this lead."

With that, the trio practically ran out of the cafeteria, hoping against hope these pieces would lead them to Kelly, before she came lurking back into the hospital.


	18. Variation 17

Variation on a Theme

A Criminal Minds/House Crossover

A/N: Hello readers! Guess what? I'm graduating from graduate school a week from today! I'm pretty excited, and it will also open up my life once again, and I can be much more consistent with my updates than I have been in the past couple of months. Anyhow, I'm rather thrilled. A great big thank you to everyone who is reading, reviewing, or has favorited/alerted this story…your continued support is much appreciated. This chapter is quite different from anything I've ever written, so please drop me a review if you can, and let me know what you thought. Enjoy!

Chapter 18: Variation 17

"_Take me away/Take me far away from here/Let me reside in the silence/Let the world just disappear…I went to return to the place I last felt stillness/To return to the part I had when I was five/When the only thing that mattered was making colors I can paint with/I'm much too young to let my life hang out to dry" ~Take Me Away (Scott Alan)_

"Kelly Sinclair was arrested for prostitution and possession of cocaine in California," Garcia said without ceremony as Morgan, JJ, and Reid joined the rest of the team in Reid's room. Morgan silently helped Reid back into the bed, as he was still incredibly weak on his feet. "By the Sheriff's office." She spoke with the fervor that always overtook her when there was another break in a case. "And at that same time, there was a prostitute who was killing her clients."

"Her first murders, aside from her parents," Morgan murmured, still looking at Garcia with rapt attention.

"What happened?" Reid asked, hands clenching into fists as adrenaline pumped through his body.

"They couldn't prove it was her," Garcia answered, meeting Reid's eyes. "There was a marked lack of physical evidence. But she got sent back to that same institution she'd been released from. Then a few months later she escaped, and there is literally no record of her until she got the job as Kelly Lewis, her mother's maiden name, at that coffee shop. She somehow managed to hack into and erase her arrest record, but as soon as Rossi got in touch with that institution, and they gave us the information that she had been arrested, I called and got the information from the sheriff's department. They still had the information in their paper files, which I'm guessing she didn't take into account."

"She's been killing for years," Reid said, feeling his tired heart start beating faster, feeling nauseated again. "Garcia, what did the victims look like?"

"Honey…"

"Garcia, please," he asked, kind, but still firm.

"They tended to have the same build as you and her father," she whispered. "Dark brown hair…"

Reid clenched his fist and slammed it into the mattress, frustration and unrestrained anger flooding through every crevice of his body.

"Reid," Hotch spoke up. "There's no need…"

"Yes there is, Hotch!" Reid exclaimed, uncharacteristically interrupting his boss. "This woman is killing people just because they look like me, and she keeps getting the better of us! She almost killed Dr. Chase, and…" he trailed off, trembling with fury.

"That isn't your fault, man," Morgan piped up. "You know it isn't. We can't help what these psychopaths do, we can only catch them."

"Then why can't we catch _her_?" Reid protested, not caring that he was being irrational. He felt his breaths growing shallower the more upset he became.

"We _will_," Hotch said, emphasizing the second word. "We won't rest until we catch her."

"She keeps changing her appearance, Hotch," Reid said. "She managed to sneak in here and poison my food, my medicine, kidnap Dr. Chase. She's fooled everyone on multiple occasions."

"Spence," JJ admonished lightly. "You need to calm down, you getting ruffled isn't good for your heart…"

Before anyone could say anything further, the door slid open, revealing House, who actually looked rather irritated.

"I can hear the lot of you shouting from down the hall," he said, not moving from the doorway. "If you want to bicker, fine, but boy genius needs to rest. In fact, I've brought a yummy sedative to help that process since my spies tell me you haven't been sleeping enough."

"I don't want the sedative," Reid grumbled. "I want to help with the case."

"You had a heart attack twenty-four hours ago," House argued, starting to step further into the room, fingering what Reid assumed was the syringe in his pocket. "You need to rest, or all my super diagnostic skills will have gone to waist. God, you're terrible at taking your own advice."

Reid was about to respond when Hotch's cell phone rang, and he picked it up almost instantly, a frown slipping onto his face.

"Agent Hotchner," he said. He paused listening to whoever was on the other side. "She's…there's been a murder at the university? Yes, we'll be right there."

He hung up, jumping immediately into action.

"A physics student has been killed at the university that fits her pattern," he said, eyes fixing on Reid for a moment. "Prentiss, I want you to guard Dr. Chase's room. Rossi, JJ, Morgan, you're with me." He looked up at Gideon. "Jason, you stay here with Reid." He reached and pulled up his pant leg, revealing the second weapon he always carried and tossed it to Gideon, who caught it. "Garcia, stay here and be ready in case we need you."

"Yes sir," she said, nodding.

Hotch looked once more at Reid, who fervently wished he could go with them, but also knew it was utterly impossible. He felt foolish, suddenly, for shouting at the team when he knew they were doing everything in their power to catch this woman. He also knew they would understand.

"We'll get her Reid," Hotch said softly, grasping his shoulder. "But you will not, under any circumstances, try to follow us, or trick Gideon and Garcia into letting you."

"Daddy has spoken," House said, pretending not to see the look of irritation Hotch sent his way. Then, before the team could even exit the room, before Reid could even try to fight him off, House uncapped the syringe and stuck it into the IV line. "Nighty night, boy genius," he said.

"Not…fair…" Reid remembered saying before unconsciousness enveloped him.

* * *

><p>The next thing Reid knew, he heard four sounds all at once, and none of them sounded pleasant to his ears.<p>

First he heard what sounded like a fire alarm, although in his sleep-drenched state, it sounded very far off.

The second sounded like the door sliding open.

The third sounded like someone had fired a tranquilizer gun.

The fourth sounded like a heavy body hitting the floor.

"Oh my God!" Garcia shouted. "You're…"

She didn't have a chance to finish before the tranquilizer gun sounded again, and Reid knew that Garcia too, had fallen victim to the person who had just walked into the room the person who had to be Kelly. His heart pounded in his ears, and for some reason he kept his eyes wrenched shut, as though pretending that he didn't see her would suddenly make her disappear.

"Spencer," she said, drawing out his name, her inflection one of a mother gently awakening her child, a mother whose words dripped with poisonous venom. "I know you aren't asleep."

He opened his eyes but didn't move immediately in case there was a weapon more sinister than a tranquilizer gun waiting for him in her far too eager hands. She was donning nurse scrubs of course, so that no one in the hospital would suspect her. Her hair was auburn again, but much shorter than when he had known her, her light blue eyes filled with a sick glee. None of the nurses on the floor would come to retrieve him because they thought there was already a nurse in his room.

The alarm was still ringing.

"As I'm sure you're aware," she began. "Your team had to go out with the Princeton P.D. to check on that unfortunate little doctoral student I had to kill. They were just a bit too impetuous in thinking I'd stick around."

Reid didn't respond, but looked over at Gideon and Garcia, hoping against hope that what she had shot them with was just a tranquilizer.

"Oh, don't worry your pretty little head," she practically purred. "The great Jason Gideon and the little tech girl are just taking a little nap."

"Garcia," Reid seethed. "Her name is Garcia."

"I'm well-aware," she said, an indestructible harshness in her tone even as she placed her finger on his cheek, running a line up and down it. "Now, I think it would be in your best interests to come with me before the morons in this place realize there isn't actually a fire. I can't tranquilize you too…they would suspect something if you were asleep in your wheelchair."

"No way in hell," he said, sitting up further and jerking his face away from her. "Why on earth would I do that? I could shout for help…this place is crawling with police officers…"

"I'm really not interested in your analysis of the situation, Dr. Reid," she spat. She slid a knife from her pocket, twirling it between her fingers. "If you don't come with…" she gestured at Garcia and Gideon, who lay unconscious on the floor. "I'm afraid their blood will be on your hands. As for the rest of your team, well, I'm afraid their fates would be similar. Your precious little godson too, I think."

At this, Reid met her eyes, trying hide his shock but guessing that he was unsuccessful.

"What?" she chuckled. "You thought I didn't know about sweet little Henry? I know everything about you, Dr. Reid. "Now," she said, inching closer to Garcia's limp form. "Make your choice."

Fear flooded him, but for Reid there was no choice in this situation.

"I'll go with you," he said. "But how exactly do you plan on getting me out of here?" Hatred wrapped around every syllable he uttered, tying itself in knots.

"The minute I pulled the fire alarm the nurses started running around like idiots," Kelly said. "It's also the shift change, and I located the back entrance. No one will notice a perfectly innocent nurse wheeling a patient out in that kind of chaos." She put the knife against his cheek. "Now get dressed, get in the wheelchair, and don't say a word."

* * *

><p>Twenty minutes later, Kelly's car pulled up in front of a clearly uninhabited house in an otherwise pleasant looking residential neighborhood. Kelly put the car in park, then looked over at him, a truly terrifying smile on her face.<p>

"Can you walk?" she asked. "Or shall I wheel the _great_ Dr. Reid in?" she mocked.

"I'll walk," he said, his voice stony as he opened the door. He was starting to feel nauseated again, and knew that without his meds he was going to be in trouble soon. His mind raced, looking for any and every way out of this situation.

Knife at his back, she urged him through the front door and towards what probably was once the family room. Reid immediately noticed the dried blood and vomit on the floor, as well as the carelessly cast aside crime scene tape. There were two chairs in the center of the room.

"Sit," Kelly ordered as he turned around, pushing him in the chest.

He obeyed, eyes trained on the knife that she still held in her hands. If only he could get it from her, find a way to get the upper hand…

"I've been researching your kind, you know," she said, sitting down across from him, eyes boring into his.

He didn't look away…he refused to let her see any of his fear, refused to let her intimidate him.

"I've been looking into what FBI profilers do," she continued, speaking as though they were simply having a casual conversation. "Looking into what makes you…tick."

"And you did all this research when?" Reid questioned sharply. "Between killing people?"

"Careful, Dr. Reid. You'd be amazed what you can do to a body with a sharp knife and some determination...especially when you know the right place to slice," she said, keeping her voice even, yet every word was soaked in warning. "Anyway like I was saying, if you're interested I've got a little game we can play. You profilers think we, oh what do you call us...unsubs, that's it. You think we revisit our crime scenes, yes?"

"Some do," Reid answered almost automatically. "However, it's usually males who do that because there is some kind of sexual motive…"

"Did I say you could speak yet?" she asked, eyes flashing momentarily as she laid the knife to his lips. "Where was I? Oh, revisiting the crime scenes. Now, according to my research, unsubs revisit their crimes scenes for three reasons: they either want to get off, as you mentioned, relive the act, or the place holds some significance for them." Leans in close. "Am I on the right track?"

He nodded, choosing to remain silent. He would play her game, because that meant her attention would be focused on him rather than the knife in her hand. The team would figure out he was missing soon, and he knew this would be the first place they would look. He just had to keep her talking.

"Out of all of those of those options, _Doctor_ Reid," she questioned. "Why is it you think I brought you here?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but fell instantly silent as she ran the knife down his cheek, leaning in close. "One more thing," she cooed. "Your answer better not be wrong."

"What if it is?" he asked, still not breaking her gaze.

"Oh don't tell me boy genius is nervous?" she said, a small laugh in her voice. "Doubting your oh so special abilities, are you?"

"I don't exactly like working under this kind of pressure," Reid shot back. This was a lie of course. He flashed back to when he'd been locked in the jail cell with Hotch and Chester Hardwick.

_I find I do some of my best work under intense terror…_

"Oh come on Spencer," she said, pulling him from his recollection. "I've seen the work you can do under pressure...you did it all the time when we were at Cal-Tech together. It's when your true genius comes out." She paused, her voice becoming more menacing by the second, yet a bizarre mixture of loathing and adulation was also prevalent. "You still haven't answered my question."

"Clearly, since you weren't equipped enough to kill Dr. Chase," he said, risking the fact that his words would likely enrage her. "You aren't here to relive a murder than never happened."

"Not equipped enough?" she shouted, rising from her chair. She might have been small, but her fury made her look all the more insane, all the more terrifying with a knife in her hand. "He was just too pathetic, too _weak_ to waste my time on. He was nothing but a pawn. And not to mention beautiful...and you of all people should know what an intelligent, beautiful man does to me." Her voice lowered, and he shivered as she ran a hand through his hair.

"Enough about you," he said, becoming more daring. "I thought you wanted me to answer the question? As to the second part, I also know you're not here to get off. The last time I checked, houses weren't equipped to satisfy women."

"How right you are, Doctor," she said, lust clouding her eyes. "Why do you think I brought you?"

He felt the bile rise in his throat.

"I guess that leaves the last option," he said, willing his heart to slow down, pain starting to sink into his limbs once more as his last round of Physostigmine and NSAIDS started to wear off. "This place must hold some kind of significance for you. Why don't you tell me about it? Is that why you wanted me, because I reminded you of your father? It wasn't because of my looks, or how smart I was, I reminded you of him, didn't I? It was his attention you really wanted. Did he desert you like I did? Turn his back on you just like I did? Is that when you started thinking you were never good enough? Is that why you broke the brakes in your parents' car and sent them to their deaths?"

Kelly didn't move. She didn't shout. But when she spoke, her voice was full of such cold fury that Reid could have sworn that the temperature in the room dropped several degrees.

"How dare you?" she questioned, finally rising slowly out of her chair, and putting her knife to Reid's throat. "You little good for nothing shit!" she exclaimed sending a stinging slap across his cheek. "You're the one who isn't good enough for _me_." Her voice switched back to that unhinged, calm fury once again. "You stole my place at Cal-Tech and everyone fell down at your feet: _Perfect, special, genius Spencer Reid, _they all said. You rejected me when I'm quite sure no other woman would bother with a loser like you." She put her face so close to his own that her forehead was nearly touching his, her spit landing on his face.

"You think your stupid profiling tricks mean that you know me… but you don't," she continued. "My father was a worthless piece of humanity who didn't deserve to live. He hardly remembered I even existed, spent all of his time at that damned university and going around the country to showcase how brilliant he was to everyone else so they would bow down and worship him, and my mother was too weak to stand up to him and his oh so _important_ career. You don't know anything about me."

Despite the sting, however, Kelly's words brought an idea to Reid's mind, and idea that made him feel sick, but an idea that he was almost certain would work, especially considering the current state of her psyche. With her clearly untreated and severe borderline personality disorder, as well as her anger and her mania, he was 90 percent positive she would fall into this precarious trap he was setting. And statistically speaking, he felt good about this. Trying to keep the tremor out of his voice, he spoke to her.

"How about you…let me get to know you," he whispered. "You know, to be truthful, despite all you've done, a part of me has regretted turning you down."

She removed the knife from his throat, glaring at him, but was clearly intrigued. "Why on earth should I believe _that_, Spencer?"

"Well I don't know why you wouldn't," he said, giving her that penetrating look that Morgan always said made him feel like Reid was staring into his soul. "We both know I'm not a good liar, and well, I'm a man, and you're a beautiful woman. I made a mistake, wasn't man enough to face my feelings."

"Why now?" she questioned, hand wrapping itself around his throat. "Why couldn't you have just wanted me back then and saved us both all this trouble? Maybe I wasn't pretty enough back then, but you're blind if you think _that_ hasn't changed."

Reid leaned in, lips almost touching hers. His game was working. "Let's just say I didn't know what I was missing. And I like a challenge. Besides," he said, lowering his voice. "I know this is what you've been after all along."

"Prove it to me," she said, releasing his throat. She whispered in his ear, so close her lips were almost touching the skin. "Make love to me right here, right _now_. And then maybe I'll let you live. Depending. That's absolutely no promise of your freedom, however. It's the least you can do really, after you insisted on always trying to be smarter than me, after you rejected me. After you stole the life that should have been _mine_."

Reid closed his eyes for a fleeting second, willing his heart to cease its frantic beating, willing the bile that was threatening him to remain in his stomach as Kelly's eyes roved hungrily over him. He had to keep up his ruse, had to make it convincing…he had to get his hands on that knife, or remain at her mercy. He knew in his gut that the team was coming, but until then he had to keep her from gutting him, had to keep her occupied, and this was the only option.

Reid plastered a smug grin onto his face. "Alright then. If that's what you require," he said, hardly even recognizing the husky quality in his own voice, hoping it sounded more genuine to her than it did to his own ears.

He couldn't, he wouldn't sleep with her, but he had to push it as far as possible until either he got his hands on the knife or the team arrived. Otherwise his life was at risk once again, and with the state his body was in, he didn't know how much it could withstand.

"Don't tease me, Spencer," she snapped, but a Cheshire cat grin was slowly spreading across her face. She was falling for it. "I won't allow it."

"Oh, I'm perfectly serious," he said, putting his face incredibly close to her own, looking directly into her eyes.

She paused for several agonizing seconds, and for a moment, Reid was certain his game was up.

"Get up." It was a command, not a request.

He complied, trying to keep his hands from shaking as she placed her own on his shoulders.

"Don't be nervous, Spencer," she said, bending to down to kiss his neck before she spoke again. "I'll teach you the ropes, as they say. This is my show, and you will not make it otherwise."

"I'm not nervous," Reid heard himself say, trying to focus his mind completely on staying in character. This was about far more than sexual satisfaction for her…this was about having complete control over him. "I'm just…anticipating."

"I was tempted, you know," she said, beginning to slowly undo the first few buttons on his shirt. "To…have my way with Dr. Chase. But I decided to wait, you see, for just this moment. Although I rather thought I'd have to force you."

She finished with the buttons and slid his shirt off, tossing it to the floor beside them. His bare skin felt cold, and goose bumps popped up across his skin.

"Getting excited, are we?" she purred. "I'll just have to go even slower then, make you wait like you've made me wait all these years."

"I don't know what I was thinking before," Reid said, making himself brush a hand across her cheek, then ran a solitary finger down the length of her arm. "But ever since all this started, I couldn't help but think of the mistake I made in turning you away. I suppose I wasn't man enough to face my feelings."

"Clearly not," she said, running her hand through his hair and pulling on it a smidge painfully. "I'm glad I could make you see reason. But if I find you've tricked me…" She trailed off, her blue eyes dancing with an increasingly menacing danger. "I will grant you the slowest death that mankind has ever seen. Your team won't expect me to come back here…it's too obvious."

This, of course, was a completely irrational assumption on her part; Reid knew without a doubt that this would be one of the first places the team would check. But he saw the doubt overcoming the pure lust in her eyes, her grip loosening on the knife. There was only one thing to do to convince her, and as he placed his lips on hers, he felt his stomach churn with agitation. She responded with enthusiasm, and he had to remind himself to keep breathing. She broke off after a few moments and slid her shirt over her head, leaving her in just her jeans and jet black bra.

"You're an even better kisser than I thought you'd be," she said, leaning into him, hands resting on his belt buckle.

She undid the buckle with nimble fingers, throwing it carelessly across the room. He remained absolutely still as she undid the buttons on his pants, heartily wishing he could communicate telepathically with the team so that they would come bursting through that door, watching as she dropped the knife to the floor just out of his reach as she focused on the task at hand. The zipper went down, and she slid his pants down to his ankles, gesturing impatiently for him to step out of them, leaving him in only his boxers.

"Lie down on the floor," she instructed. "And do as I say."

"As you wish," he said, his mind working so hard he felt dizzy. He'd had a heart attack only days ago, and he knew the immense stress of this moment made him susceptible to another cardiac arrest.

Before he could even process, she was there, knees on either side of his hips, starting to trail kisses up and down his neck and then to his sternum. He closed his eyes in what she would take as pleasure, masking the panic that he knew was starting to build in his expression. He thought inexplicably of Lila Archer, remembering how soft her lips had felt on his, contrasting most strikingly from the forceful, cold mouth that was now pressing down on his skin. An uncontrollable shiver ran up his spine as she went lower, moving to his chest, his navel, and then to the spot just above his boxers. He bade himself to relax as she ran her fingers lazily under the elastic, her hand proceeding to ghost over him before coming back to rest on his stomach.

"Enjoying this, Dr. Reid?" she asked. "I'm expecting you to be as good as I'd imagined."

His eyes cast a split-second glance to the knife, which was lying inches from him. He moved his head up to kiss her, the distraction serving its purpose as her hands wrapped in his hair, not taking notice as he grabbed hold of the knife handle.

With a surge of adrenaline he didn't know he possessed, he pushed her off of him, an animalistic scream erupting forth from her throat as she went flying.

CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE

Prentiss' internal alarm went off as soon as the fire alarm started it's very unpleasant shrieking sound. Dr. Chase, who had just fallen asleep, jerked up, and Dr. Cameron, who had been pretending to read, reached instinctively for Chase's hand.

"Stay right there," Prentiss said, remaining calm. She stuck her head out the door, calling to a nurse.

"Is there a fire?" she questioned.

"We're not sure," the nurse replied, frowning. "It could have been pulled accidentally. We've never had anyone pull it as a joke. They're checking now to see if we need to get the patients out."

"Could you please find one of the police officers that's stationed by the entrance and bring him here?" Prentiss asked kindly.

The nurse nodded and went without argument, likely Prentiss, suspected, because of the FBI badge she wore around her neck. She waited a few minutes, the alarm still shrieking, her sense of ill foreboding growing stronger in the pit of her stomach. Once the police officer arrived she told him to stand by the door, weapon ready, and not, under any circumstances, to move, unless the patients were evacuated. And even then, he was to stay by Chase's side. She ran through the crowd of confused nurses, doctors, and patients toward Reid's room, hearing Dr. Cuddy's voice in the background, pleading with everyone to remain calm. She slid the door open so hard she almost pulled it off the track, and felt almost as if she'd been punched in the solar plexus, her breath nearly leaving her completely, when her eyes landed on the unconscious forms of Gideon and Garcia. Reid's bed was empty.

"No, no, no," she whispered to the quiet room.

She bent down to check Garcia's pulse, then Gideon's, relief washing over her as she realized they were still alive. She pulled what appeared to be a tranquilizer dart out of Gideon's neck, then moved to take out Garcia's. She frantically pushed aside Reid's covers as though he might be hiding under them somewhere.

The fire alarm fell silent.

She pulled out her phone, taking in a deep breath as she dialed a familiar number.

"Hotch," she said, when he picked up on the second ring. "She's got Reid."


	19. Variation 18

Variation on a Theme

A/N: Hi all! Here's the latest chapter…sorry for the delay, I've been getting settled in at my job post-graduation, etc., so things have been a bit crazy. This isn't the end though; there are several more chapters to go! I do hope you enjoy this. It is a bit shorter than usual, but it would have been too long if I continued into the next bit. I'll be checking back in with the House crew in the next chapter, as well as dealing with the ramifications of what poor Reid has just been through. Thanks so much to all of you for the continued support on this story, it is MUCH appreciated!

Chapter 19: Variation 18

_Here comes the sun/Here comes the sun/Little darling/It's been a long, cold, lonely winter…Here comes the sun/And I say/It's alright. ~ The Beatles_

For the first time in her memory, Emily Prentiss allowed the shock to overcome her as she heard Hotch's voice, which sounded very far away, tell her that they would be there in a matter of minutes. She heard him click off, not even bothering to press the end button on the screen. She had faced countless horrific situations in her career, had gone undercover, had seen bombs explode and kill hundreds, and yet it was now, in the middle of this hospital room with the unconscious forms of her friends on either side, facing the empty bed of an agent who was practically her little brother, that she couldn't quite snap back into action. God, they'd done _everything_, and she'd _still_ managed to get her slimy hands on Reid. The sound of footsteps shocked her from her frozen state, and she turned around to see House and Foreman behind her.

Finally, the fire alarm fell silent.

"Agent Prentiss?" Foreman said, kneeling down next to her and automatically feeling for the pulse on both Garcia and Gideon's necks. "What…"

"Kelly," Emily said. "She took Reid." She met Foreman's eyes, hardly noticing House milling around behind her.

"They'll be alright," he responded in answer to her unspoken question. "Looks like a basic tranquilizer to me," he said, examining the dart up close. "But they will be out for at least an hour."

"She left something," House piped up from behind her. "I know I'm not supposed to touch it, or whatever, so…"

Emily stood up and turned, retrieving a spare pair of blue gloves from her back pocket. She picked up the single sheet of paper that was once folded over, and opened it. A single word taunted her.

_Checkmate._

"Charming," House said from over her shoulder. "Foreman," he said. "Go and get some nurses and two gurneys. We should put these two in the ER and monitor them until they wake up, just in case."

Foreman nodded, leaving House and Emily alone for a few moments. There was just one question that plagued Emily's mind.

"How long does Reid have?" she questioned, turning around to face one of the doctors who had saved her friend's life. "How long does he have off his meds?"

"It's less of a question of that as it is his heart being under stress and the worst symptoms coming back," House answered, oddly grave. "He won't just drop dead, but he won't have much stamina in a fight."

Prentiss nodded, closing her eyes briefly as she clenched her fists. She wanted to dash off this instant to go and find Reid, but she knew she had to wait for Hotch and the rest.

"He is a stubborn son of a bitch though," House added gruffly. "So there's really no telling."

Prentiss almost found herself laughing at that comment. For the first time, she noticed that House held a folder in his hands that appeared to contain the operative notes from Chase's surgery. Before she could respond, however, she heard Morgan's voice behind her.

"Emily!" he exclaimed, a gleam of desperation in his eyes. "What happened? Where's Reid?" He looked down at Gideon and Garcia, eyes widening.

"Are they? No…"

"Just a basic tranquilizer dart," House said. "Foreman's gone to get nurses and gurneys to take them to the ER just in case, but they'll only be out for about an hour."

JJ, Hotch, and Rossi came up behind, having caught Emily's last words.

"Did she leave anything?" JJ asked without pause, stepping up next to Morgan.

"Just this," Emily said, holding out the note in order for everyone to see.

"Checkmate," Rossi read aloud, his normally calmed demeanor laced with a fury that Emily found unnerving. "What the hell…"

"We're going back to the house," Hotch, watching with saddened eyes as Foreman and two nurses approached to help Gideon and Garcia. Yet there was a spark of determination in his eyes that reminded Emily eerily of his expression while dealing with Foyet. "She'll be there with Reid. She has to be."

CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM

"You sneaky son of a bitch!" Kelly screamed, leaping back toward him and grabbing the sharp end of the knife, an action which Reid had not foreseen. "Your worthless life is _mine_."

He wrenched it out of her grip, causing crimson to appear on her skin, which only served to infuriate her further. He took advantage of her momentary shock and punched her directly in the solar plexus. She fell to her knees, coughing and drawing in shallow breaths. He considered his options and made for where his shoes lay; he knew that trying to run without them would only give her the advantage. It occurred to him how ridiculous he would look running down the street in just a pair of boxers and navy-blue converse, but he didn't have a choice. The moment he slid them onto his feet, however, he was suddenly tackled to the floor, just barely avoiding bashing his head on the wood.

He felt her hand on his, grabbing the knife and forcing it across the skin on his abdomen and creating a gash that felt like fire, but he hardly even had time to register the sensation. He pried her hand off slowly, face reddening from loosening her iron grip; his body was so weakened from the illness that he was panting already, but the adrenaline continued pumping, his survival instincts overtaking his exhaustion. He kicked her off with such force that she hit her head against the wall, and when she looked back up, her eyes were filled with such a potent hatred that Reid could almost physically feel it hit him. He scrambled a good distance away, not willing to give her any kind of advantage.

A thick quiet fell, the sound of labored breathing the only thing cutting through. Reid felt his entire body shaking, blinking his eyes against the blurry vision that had been one of the first symptoms to plague him. He drew in a deep breath, fingers gripping the handle of the knife. Oddly, she didn't move just yet, but he knew better than to try and make for the door…if he did, the chances that she would pounce on him like a feral cat were pretty high. He needed to read her, he needed to profile her every move. He stood up on legs that grew increasingly unsteady, bracing himself, mind spinning with ideas. There were murders she had committed for which there were no bodies, and they needed her alive if there was any hope of her divulging their location. Besides that, despite the fact that he had been forced to kill a few unsubs in the past, it had always been with a gun, and this was an entirely different situation. If he could just get her unconscious…

"You're clever Spencer," she said, standing up slowly, hand massaging the back of her head. "I'll give you that." Her voice was practically a growl, and Reid felt a shiver run down his spine at the sound. "But I can guarantee now that you will not be leaving here alive."

She still didn't move from where.

"You said yourself that I'm clever," he answered, a sharp pain shooting across his head. "Who are you to say that I won't be getting out of here alive?" He asked, his tone almost conversational. He knew better than to taunt someone in her state of mind.

"Because your body is breaking down already," she chuckled. "Thanks to that handy little thing called Atropine. You've been off your medicine nearly two hours, and you were nearly dead when they started the IV two days ago. It doesn't take a _genius _like yourself to see that I'm going to have the advantage. But don't worry," she paused, a grin that would have frightened Satan himself playing at the corners of her lips. "You'll have plenty of time to tell me what you would have told your beloved _team_ while I take that knife you have in your hands and make you beg for mercy. When I'm done with you, Spencer, they might not even recognize your face to identify the body."

"You may succeed in killing me," Reid breathed, the full gravity of this moment hitting him like an oncoming train. He had struggled to maintain his grasp on life over the past week, and he would continue that fight, but the fact was, his body was betraying him, and there was not yet a sign of the team. "But I will _never_ beg for anything from you."

"What a brave boy you are," she mocked. "We'll see how much that changes when that metal hits your skin, shall we? I'll make you regret rejecting me, and I'll make you regret tricking me."

Then, rather a lot happened at once.

Almost in a blur, Kelly ran at him, but just as she was about to tackle him, she reached for the knife. Her hand was inches away, but Reid tossed it across the room and it hit the floor with a thud and slid to a far corner. In the same moment, she slammed his body to the floor.

"Is that how you want to play, Dr. Reid?" she said, her voice a venomous whisper. "Alright then."

He took hold of her shoulders and tried to push her off, but his hands were shaking like mad and sharp pains were stabbing into his head like the knife he'd just tossed away.

"Oh no, you're not getting away from me," she said, and he felt her thumbs start pressing slowly into his windpipe, cutting off his air supply entirely after a few seconds.

He struggled, kicking furiously at her, but her grip was an unmerciful clamp against his still-sick body.

"And so will end the great Spencer Reid, savoir extraordinaire, who couldn't even save himself," she said, crushing his body with her own as she pressed her fingers down harder. "This isn't the ideal situation, but it will do. I'll watch the light leave your eyes, shall I?"

Black spots started to play at his vision, as he fought against, her, his limbs falling limp from the lack of air, but there was no way he would stop fighting.

And then, very suddenly, he heard the sound of the door being kicked open, and with one last burst of adrenaline coming from what he knew was the glorious sound of his friends making their entrance, he kicked Kelly off him, and heard the sounds of a scuffle as someone grabbed her from behind. Sweet relief flooded him as air swept through his lungs, his vision, though still not wonderful, cleared enough to see who had seized her.

It was Morgan.

His hold on her was tenuous and she slipped from his grasp, only to turn and find Prentiss in front of her, the barrel of her gun so close it almost touched Kelly's forehead.

"Try to run, try to touch Dr. Reid again," Prentiss breathed, hand absolutely steady. "And I will not hesitate to put this bullet through your skull."

Kelly smirked, but there was the smallest flash of in of apprehension in her eyes. She raised her hands, and Morgan pulled them behind her, the sounds of the handcuffs clinking shut sending air back into Reid's lungs.

It was over.

Morgan handed Kelly off to an ominous looking JJ, who escorted Kelly roughly toward the door, her muttered "try anything and I will make you regret it _instantly_. You will not touch Spence again," not slipping past Reid, who couldn't help but give the tiniest of smiles at her words. He was certain there were only one or two other times he'd seen her look quite so intense, her blue eyes practically crackling with fury.

"You did good kid, _so_ good," Morgan said, putting a hand on Reid's shell-shocked shoulder. "You took her down. You outsmarted her."

Reid stared, wide-eyed, as JJ and now Hotch manhandled a struggling Kelly with more force than was likely necessary, Rossi following behind them, glancing at Kelly's back with a glare that could kill, hand still resting on his Glock in case she pulled a fast one. He suddenly felt as if he wanted a shower more than anything in the entire world; the smell of the hospital, the smell of _her_, was all over him.

"Morgan, I need…" Reid heard himself saying, realizing that he sounded half incoherent but unable to stop the words tumbling from his mouth. "I can't stand it, the smell of her on me…" He rubbed at his skin furiously, knowing he sounded insane but hardly caring. He smelled something metallic…

"Reid, what?" Morgan asked, hand still placed firmly on Reid's shoulder.

Morgan hadn't yet asked why he was only in his boxers, and Reid found he couldn't muster up the courage to tell him just yet. Yes, he had escaped what certainly could have been much worse, but the way she'd touched him, the way he'd been forced to allow her to touch him, still made him feel sick to his stomach. He continued scrubbing at his skin with his hands, feeling something wet on his stomach. Was it her saliva? He scrubbed harder.

"I can't get it off!" he shouted. "Morgan, I need a washcloth, something…"

"Reid!" Morgan exclaimed, pulling Reid back to reality somewhat. "What you need is that ambulance waiting outside for you. You're bleeding." He took Reid's hand and brought it up to his face, showing him the crimson liquid that was now all over his palm. Reid looked down, registering the long cut that stretched across his stomach.

"Right," he said, coming somewhat back into himself. He shook his head, trying to calm himself. "I took the knife and we got into a physical struggle, and she managed to graze me with it. I almost didn't even remember."

"You've been through a lot in the past couple of hours," Prentiss piped up, stepping forward. "It probably hardly even registered."

Reid nodded, suddenly feeling oddly as if everything was moving in slow motion.

"Reid?" Morgan questioned. "You alright?"

Reid looked up and met two pairs of very concerned eyes, suddenly feeling nearly as vulnerable as he had that night they'd found him in the ice-cold Georgia woods next to Tobias Hankel's body. But this was a different kind of vulnerable. He felt ridiculous standing here in his boxers and his scuffed up Converse, which was almost laughable considering that his friends has seen him in a hospital gown, but this almost seemed worse, somehow. He knew one thing, however: he wanted out of this house, and quickly.

"I'm fine," he said quickly. Despite his increasing feelings of embarrassment and vulnerability, a familiar warmth spread through him at the sight of his surrogate family. "It's over. I don't feel so well though…the medication hasn't had a chance to run its full course, and my heart…"

"We need to get you to the ambulance," Morgan said, already slipping an arm under Reid's shoulder to help him balance on increasingly unsteady legs.

He felt Prentiss silently take his hand, and the small gesture from someone so guarded as Emily, nearly made him want to break down then and there.

"I'll put in a call to Dr. Cameron and let her know we've got Kelly," she said. "It might help Chase sleep better. It will probably help House's whole team sleep better."

Reid nodded, exhaustion quickly sweeping over him as the adrenaline faded. With that, he allowed his friends to escort him to the ambulance where everyone but Hotch was gathered; the unit chief was busy informing the Princeton PD chief to keep two highly trained officers in front of the holding cell at all times, and that he would be down to the station as soon as he made certain that Reid was well taken care of. He heard the door slam as Kelly was put into the car, but he refused to look in her direction; he wouldn't give her that satisfaction. He was vaguely aware of lying down in the ambulance, of hearing JJ and Hotch's voices saying that they were riding along, of everyone else's assurance that they were right behind, felt the gentle, precise touch of the female EMT, but soon enough blackness crept into his eyes, and sleep overtook him in the ambulance.

Finally…blessedly…it was over.


	20. Variation 19

Variation on a Theme

A/N: I would offer my apologies and my excuses for the delay, but instead I'll just stand here and let you pelt me with (soft) objects. Anyways, here it is! According to my calculations, there is one chapter and an epilogue (or coda) left. I do hope you enjoy, and thanks SO VERY MUCH to everyone who has continued reading, reviewing, alerting, or following this story…you guys are awesome!

Chapter 20: Variation 19

_And all the mountains I must climb/And all the oceans I must swim through/All the walls that I must break/And the tears that must come down/And the sky that I must reach/And the strength that I must find/And the heart that I must stop, from closing in on me." ~ Scott Alan_

If he knew it wouldn't get him suspended, Hotch would have seized Kelly Sinclair by the front of her shirt and thrown her against the wall rather than sitting down calmly across from her. JJ followed him silently in, but rather than sitting, stood in the corner with her arms crossed over her chest. Rossi, Prentiss, Gideon and even Garcia stood outside the glass, each unwavering pair of eyes fixed on Kelly. Morgan, who had elected to stay behind at the hospital with Reid, was absent, which was likely for the better, as Hotch didn't know if Morgan would have been able to restrain himself from ripping Kelly to pieces. In a strange, but perhaps-should-have-been-expected turn of events, Dr. House also stood outside, having come over as soon as he'd gotten the phone call that they'd finally arrested Kelly. Despite Hotch's protests, House had relayed the news to Chase, Cameron, Cuddy, and Wilson, then appeared at the police station, muttering something about wanting to lay eyes on "the creature who had managed to scuttle under his radar."

When Hotch met Kelly's glacier-like eyes, he was overcome with the temptation of smacking the self-satisfied look off her face, but restrained himself.

"Are we going to play a game of good cop, bad cop?" she asked, smirking. "Let me guess, little JJ is going to try and throw me off by being the bad cop?"

"That's Agent Jareau and Agent Hotchner to you," Hotch said, his tone rigid and unforgiving.

"Why do you even have me in this interrogation room?" Kelly questioned, obviously unafraid of any consequences, which, Hotch knew, was the most dangerous type of criminal. "You know I kidnapped Dr. Chase, attempted to murder precious Spencer…you literally caught me red-handed, since I do believe I had to wash both Spencer and Dr. Chase's blood off…"

"Because there are other murders you committed," Hotch said, every inch of him screaming to shout at her as he interrupted. "Murders without bodies."

"And you think I'm going to tell you?" she laughed, the amusement clear in her tone.

"If you have any idea…"

"What's good for me?" she asked, cutting him off. "I think I'm a little past that, aren't I, _Agent_ Hotchner? Maybe if you uncuff me from this table, my ability to give you information will suddenly reappear."

It was the last thing he wanted to do, but as he caught Rossi's glance through the glass and saw him nod, he complied, pulling out the key and unlocking the cuffs that bound Kelly to the table. He was tempted to rest a hand on his gun, but knew better than to draw attention to his weapon.

"You have the bodies from the Virginia murders," Kelly said, nonchalantly examining her nails, which were tinged red. "You have the body of that unfortunate pharmaceutical intern…so what bodies are you looking for, exactly?"

"There are some missing from the California cases. When you were a prostitute," Hotch said, looking directly into her eyes, absolutely steadfast.

"They could never prove I killed those men," Kelly said, her smirk omnipresent. "And besides, we're in Jersey. What interest do you have in those cases?"

"You've clearly crossed state lines, so it's a Federal case," Hotch said, leaning forward slightly. "It's the BAU's case." He leaned closer. "It's _my_ case. And I've contacted the proper authorities in California, and so help me God, I will connect you to those deaths."

Kelly leaned in equally close, and Hotch felt his blood boil, swearing that his body temperature rose each second he was in the room with her.

"Losing our temper, aren't we Aaron?" she questioned. "But then again, you can't really stay unbiased about this case, can you? Let me guess: you aren't just here to get information on those bodies, aren't just here to try and intimidate me. You want to know what happened while I was alone with Spencer. Tell me…how is he?"

Hotch's anger burst forth, and he felt largely outside of himself as he abandoned any sense of protocol, of rationality. He hadn't felt like this since Foyet, hadn't felt so utterly out of control.

"He's spoken about ten words since we got him back to hospital," Hotch whispered, his voice rising with every syllable. "What the hell did you do to him?!"

"It's less of a question of what _I_ did to him," Kelly said slowly. "But rather a question of what he _let_ me do to him. I wonder…do you know what a coward Spencer is?"

Hotch slammed his hand on the table, the sound echoing in the interrogation room. His eyes flickered to JJ, whose eyes were blazing so fiercely that he could practically see the fire within them, but as they'd agreed, she stood still and absolutely silent. Clues flew together in Hotch's head like puzzle pieces; he remembered the bruises on Dr. Chase's lips, remembered seeing Reid in only his boxers when they'd found him…knowing his friend and colleague as he did, Reid had probably tricked Kelly into thinking that he was as attracted to her as she was to him, and her ego being what it was…

"Temper, temper," Kelly said. "Don't worry Aaron," she continued, but Hotch saw her direct her glance at JJ, whose eyes had started to look suspiciously wet. "I didn't get as far with Dr. Reid as I would have liked. Little brat decided he'd rather get into a fist fight instead. I am curious, though: how is Dr. Chase?"

"Not another word out of you," Hotch seethed, venom shooting out with every word that slipped past his lips.

"But I thought you _wanted_ me to talk," Kelly cooed. "Given up already?"

Hotch heard a voice in his earpiece as he leaned forward again, almost ready to shove the woman in front of him.

"Hotch, keep it cool," Rossi's voice said, restoring an ounce of calm to Hotch's heart. "She's not worth it."

"We're done here," Hotch said, starting to rise from his chair.

"Are we?" Kelly asked, and Hotch detected something utterly deadly in her whisper, as if a thousand demons resided within her, ready to pounce.

Then several things happened at once.

Kelly kicked Hotch's flimsy chair with both feet just as he started to get up and sent it flying into the wall, causing Hotch to trip, his holster hitting the concrete, sending his gun spinning across the floor. JJ moved to seize it but Kelly was quicker, and within seconds the gun was in her hand, cocked, ready, and pointed at Hotch. JJ pulled out her own gun, and Hotch got up warily, eyes locked on Kelly, and pulled out the second gun that was by his ankle. Kelly's eyes widened slightly, obviously having not predicted that, but kept her gun trained on the unit chief.

"You won't get out of here Kelly," Hotch said, keeping his voice steady, eyes looking at JJ for a split second before landing back on Kelly. "You shoot, and someone shoots you. Game over."

"I know that," she spat. "But at least I can take one of you down with me. End things on my own terms." She grinned, and Hotch would later remember it as one of the most disturbing images he'd ever seen, simple as it was. "At least if I couldn't kill Spencer, I can finish breaking him by killing one of his _dear_ friends. He'll _never_ forgive himself."

Two shots fired, ringing in Hotch's ears.

He dove to the side as one bullet lodged in the glass, the remaining BAU's team members' and Dr. House's eyes starting at it in shock. Kelly fell, JJ's bullet lodged directly in her heart, while JJ herself stood with her gun still pointed at the offending party, hands shaking slightly, but her aim was obviously steady. The door to the interrogation room flew open, and Rossi, Prentiss, Garcia, and Dr. House appeared, each staring at Kelly's unmoving form.

"Well," House said, cracking through the silence. "I guess she doesn't need a diagnosis."

Hotch actually chuckled under his breath, then turned to JJ, who was finally re-holstering her weapon.

"Thank you, JJ," Hotch said, smiling at the young woman who helped glue their BAU family together. "That was a good shot. I wasn't expecting her to do that, I'll admit."

"I couldn't let her win," JJ whispered, eyes locked on Kelly. "Not after what she did to Dr. Chase, after she nearly killed Spence, after what she almost stole from all of us."

Hotch nodded, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

"It's over," he said, looking around at everyone in the room. "Now we just have to pick up the pieces."

And that, he thought to himself, was the hardest task.

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Morgan had one of Reid's books that Garcia had brought him resting open on his lap, but he'd only made it through the first five pages. If questioned he wouldn't have been able to tell anyone what the story was, because he was far more interested in staring at the wall, images of the past week and half burned into his brain, Reid's voice echoing against the chasms of his mind.

_I can't get it off! Morgan I need a washcloth, something…_

Reid had spoken a few words in response to their questions, but had skirted around the events of this afternoon, just shy of adamantly refusing to tell them. He'd fallen asleep before the rest of the team had left, pulling the covers up to his chin and turning away from them as Dr. House administered another sedative, not looking the least bit peaceful. Morgan's phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out, desperate to know what was going down while they interrogated Kelly; he'd wanted to go, but a larger part of him had wanted to stay with his friend, desperate to do something to help, desperate to find out what had happened.

"Hey Emily," he said. "What's up? How's it going?"

"It wasn't going," Prentiss answered, exhaustion brimming in her tone, mixed with the relief the all felt at finally apprehending Kelly. "And now it really won't. Kelly's dead."

Morgan very nearly dropped the phone.

"What?" he asked, trying to lower his voice when he realized how loud it had grown in his shock. "How?"

"I'll give you all the details later, but she managed to get her hand on Hotch's gun. She shot, but Hotch dodged, and JJ shot her. It was almost simultaneous."

"Wow," Morgan said, running a hand over his head, watching as Reid started to stir. "I would have liked to have gotten more on those missing bodies in California, but I have to admit, given her intelligence, I was concerned she'd escape custody."

"I think we all were," Prentiss admitted. "How's Reid?"

"He's been asleep ever since you guys left, but he's waking up so I've gotta run."

Prentiss said goodbye, telling him that House was intent on giving Chase the news himself, and then hung up. Reid turned over, blinking his eyes open and giving Morgan a glance, his hand reaching for the new stitches that sewed up his knife wound.

"Hey kid," Morgan said softly. "Sorry I haven't got any Jello this time."

Reid gave him the mere ghost of a wry grin, but it was enough to make Morgan's spirits lift a smidge.

"What are you doing here?" Reid asked, sitting up slightly against the pillows. "Shouldn't you be at the police station?"

"Someone needed to stay here with you," Morgan said. "I volunteered."

"I would have thought you would have been the first one in the interrogation room," Reid said, giving a hoarse chuckle.

"You're more important than that," Morgan said, inching his chair closer to the bed. "I've just heard from Prentiss, actually…"

"How's it going?" Reid asked, cutting in, and clearly hoping to avoid any questions.

"Kelly's dead, Reid. She got her hands on Hotch's gun, and when she tried to shoot him, JJ shot her."

Morgan watched for a reaction, watched as a slow trembling overtook his friend's entire form from head to toe. He was visibly shaking, and then before Morgan quite knew what was going on, Reid was out of bed.

"Reid, what…"

"I…bathroom," Reid said, trying to smile as he dragged his IV pole along with him, shutting the door before Morgan could even move.

He moved to the door, heard the sounds of the toilet lid slamming down, the sounds of Reid sitting down on it, the scraping of the pole legs on the tile. He listened, giving Reid a moment, unsure and not wanting to push him too hard. Getting Spencer Reid to give in to his emotions was almost an art form, an art form that Morgan had studied and tried to perfect. He heard a sharp intake of breath, sounding very much as though his friend was trying to prevent himself from crying.

"Reid?" Morgan called. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Reid insisted. "I promise. I just…felt a little sick. Probably all the medication."

"Reid," Morgan said again, letting him know that he wasn't falling for it. "Come on man. It's just me. I know you don't want to talk about what happened today, but you've already been through a lot. You almost died this week…you can't not talk to someone about that."

Silence was all that met Morgan's ears for a solid minute.

"Can I at least come in?" he asked, softer now.

Silence again, but then a response.

"Sure…yeah," Reid said, his voice shaky.

Morgan entered, finding Reid perched sideways on the closed toilet seat, head almost between his knees as if he were having a panic attack. Morgan leaned against the counter, eyes running up and down his friend, who wasn't making eye contact.

"I had to trick her," Reid said suddenly, still not looking at him, but staring pointedly at the floor, still trembling. "I had to, or she would have killed me, killed any one of you…"

"You don't have to make excuses Reid," Morgan said, squatting down so that he was at eye-level with his friend. "You know there will be no judgments on this end."

Reid caught Morgan's eye for the briefest of seconds, nodding, then looked back down again.

"I had to make her think I was attracted to her," he continued, his whisper echoing in the tiny bathroom. "It was what she wanted, it was the only way, because talking wasn't getting me very far." He stumbled over his words. "I had to let her kiss me, touch me, undress me… so I could get the knife, and then I kicked her off me…" his voice died, red flooding his cheeks.

So that was why he'd only been in his boxers when they'd found him brawling with Kelly. It made sense now, all the pieces coming together, but Reid was clearly embarrassed, ashamed, and Morgan cursed Kelly all the way into her very recent grave. Reid breathed in, running a hand over his face, giving Morgan the chance to gently seize his wrist.

"No hiding from me, kid," he said, and Reid had no choice but to look him directly in the eye. "You did what you had to, do you hear me? You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. We're all here for you, every step of the way, to help you heal physically and emotionally, okay?"

Reid nodded, and Morgan remembered Tobias Hankel, remembered how they'd all been so shocked at Reid's erratic behavior afterward that it had taken them weeks, months really, to properly react, and swore that he would not let his own fears, the team's fears of saying or doing the wrong thing, affect Reid, not this time. Reid put his hands over his face again, and a quiet sob pushed its way out, despite Reid's best efforts.

"Son of a bitch," Reid breathed, and Morgan almost laughed, because Reid hardly ever cursed, and it sounded so odd.

"Dammit Reid," Morgan said, frustrated. "Let it _out_. You almost died, you've been through hell, just…just be a normal human being for once in your life."

Reid's head snapped up and he looked at Morgan, a laugh bursting through, as he no doubt remembered all the times Morgan had questioned if he was capable of acting like a normal human being. He laughed for a few seconds, causing Morgan to grin.

Then the tears came forth, swift and unyielding. For a second Morgan was so shocked that it had worked that he froze up. It was terrifying, he realized, to see Reid this way. He'd seen Reid get teary, seen him get emotional, get angry but the kid had adamantly refused to actually _cry_ in front of anyone before, always escaping off somewhere before it was possible. He clenched his fist, cursing Kelly again before wrapping one arm around his friend, his adopted little brother, Reid's head now buried in his shoulder by default.

"I'm sorry," Reid mumbled, his voice muffled against Morgan's shirt.

"Kid, for once… shut up," Morgan said affectionately, feeling the tears sting his own eyes at how close he'd come to losing one of his best friends. "I've got you."

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Chase jumped at the sound of his door sliding open; Cameron, who had been sleeping precariously on the edge of the bed, jerked up. She'd insisted she could nap in the chair, but remembering Dr. Reid's advice to let her in, no matter how strongly his walls wanted to spring up, had convinced her he could make room in small bed. With her directly beside him, her body touching his, Chase felt safer than he had in days.

"Funny," House said, closing the door behind him with his cane, a trick that Chase wasn't sure how he'd mastered. "I think I told _you_ that you needed to sleep," he said, nodding his head in Chase's direction. "And yet here you are, still wide awake. Seems like you thought I meant Cameron should be sleeping. Not that she's great at following directions either."

"I thought you were at the police station," Cameron said, yawning as she moved down from the bed to the nearby chair.

"I was," House said, suddenly looking a smidge uncomfortable. "No need to be anymore."

"Why?" Chase asked, reaching almost unconsciously for Cameron's hand, a silent reminder that he needed her. "She didn't…"

"She's dead," House interrupted, his eyes boring directly into Chase's. "So no, she didn't escape, not in the way you were thinking anyway."

Chase released the breath he'd been holding for the past thirty seconds, the breath he felt like he'd been holding for days since his return. He didn't make a habit of wishing death on anyone, but the anxiety that Kelly might escape, might come back and kidnap him, kill him, kill Allison, kill House, kill Dr. Reid…those anxieties would thankfully never be realized anywhere except in his nightmares.

"What happened?" Cameron asked, eyes wide.

"I didn't see entirely, but somehow the bitch got a hold of Hotchner's gun, she fired, and Agent Jareau shot her," House said.

"Is Agent Hotchner alright?" Chase asked, grasping Allison's hand tighter.

"Fine," House said, waving his hand nonchalantly, as if he so often experienced murderers getting shot in front of him. "He's quite the acrobat, apparently, practically leapt out of the way so it hit the bullet-proof glass."

Chase closed his eyes briefly, remembering the cold, sickening feel of Kelly's lips on his, felt her stabbing him with the knife, warm blood, his own blood, caking on his skin, heard the sound of her screaming at him that he was an insignificant pawn that no one cared about saving. She was dead, it was over, but at the same time, it wasn't. He had miles to go physically, miles to go emotionally, and yet a small part of him couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit better.

"I can't believe it," he muttered, almost to himself.

"Believe it," House said, and Chase saw something akin to relief in his eyes. "I saw it myself."

"How's Dr. Reid?" he asked, feeling like his mind was moving a million miles a minute, his heart pumping furiously.

"Last I checked," House said slowly. "He was _sleeping_. Like you should be."

"Why exactly are you telling me what to do?" Chase asked, watching as surprise flitted across House's face at his first sign of real defiance since he'd been rescued. "You aren't my attending."

House leaned in, raising his eyebrows.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I'm something much better than that. I'm your _boss_."

Chase opened his mouth to argue, but House cut him off.

"Go the hell to sleep or you'll never get out of here, I'll make certain of that," House threatened. "Don't make me kick Cameron out and send Foreman in. He might not be as pretty, but he's also less distracting."

Cameron furrowed her eyebrows in disapproval, but kept silent.

Having successfully delivered his news and his commands, House turned to go, pumping up the morphine as he went, but stopped in the door when Chase spoke.

"Thanks for coming to find me, House," he said, voice so low that the diagnostician barely heard him. "Thanks for getting me out of there."

Chase watched House pause, watched as he almost walked out without responding, watched as he turned his head, a smile in his eyes, but a sarcastic remark on his tongue.

"Employees get one pass when being kidnapped by serial killers," he said, absolutely deadpan. "But if it happens again, you're fired."


	21. Variation 20

Variation on a Theme

A House, M.D./Criminal Minds Crossover Fanfiction

A/N: I'm going to apologize for the ridiculous wait between the last chapter and this one; my life kind of…exploded. I had friends who kept having family members dying, there was family insanity, plus I moved to a new apartment, and I'm in a wedding. Plus, there was also work! But anyway, here is the last regular chapter, and there will be an epilogue to follow this, which is already partly finished! I'd like to thank my dear friend and muse, Maggie, for some of the dialogue in this chapter. I do hope you enjoy, and thank you to everyone who has stuck with me through the course of this story. Keep an eye out for the epilogue!

Chapter 21: Variation 20

"_Sometimes when you're doing simple things around the house/Maybe you'll think of me and smile/You know I'm tied to you like the buttons on your blouse/Keep me in your heart for a while." ~ Warron Zevon_

For the first time in the nearly seven days since Kelly's death, Reid was alone. After reminding the team that Kelly was in fact, dead, he had told them to go and get some rest in between finishing the last of the paperwork on Kelly's case at the Princeton PD. They also had to deal with Strauss, who had flown in for the day for a full briefing after Hotch's adamant refusal to send the team home until Reid was fully healed. His headaches receding, he had a book open on his lap, finger moving steadily down the pages, when there was an unexpected knock on the glass. He looked up to see Gideon on the other side and gestured for him to come in.

"Glasses, huh?" Gideon teased, taking a seat. "I haven't seen those in a while."

"Can't quite tolerate the contacts yet," Reid responded with a smile, marking his place and closing the book. "I thought maybe you were at the hotel."

"I figured I could catch a moment while everyone else was gone," Gideon admitted. "That's one benefit of being retired; no paperwork and no Strauss."

Reid chuckled. "I'm just waiting for her to come in here, Hotch warned me she probably would. Did she see you?"

"She caught me before I could miss her," Gideon said, folding his hands tightly in his lap, an old sign that he was anxious. "I said hello and then made my way out. So I hear they're letting you out of here in a few days?" he said, changing the subject.

"If things continue on this way, Dr. House said I could be discharged in three days," Reid answered. "Chase is supposed to be getting out then too, coincidentally. They've finally stopped worrying about his knife wounds getting infected. Of course, he keeps arguing that he's a doctor too, and then he knows full well when he should be released, but he, House, and the attending finally agreed."

"I'm glad to hear it," Gideon said, and Reid noticed his former mentor's eyes roving over him, as though trying to memorize his face.

Reid paused, waiting to see if Gideon would continue. When he didn't, Reid plowed forward.

"Gideon, is there something you…want to talk to me about in particular?" Reid asked.

"How did you…" Gideon started to ask.

"Your hands are folded," Reid responded with a small grin. "It's your tell."

"You would know that," Gideon muttered.

"You trained me," Reid pointed out.

"Fair enough," Gideon said, smiling again. He stopped, contemplating something rather intensely, then continued. "I'm leaving for Colorado day after tomorrow."

"Oh, right," Reid said, the reality he hadn't had time to consider hitting him in the pit of his stomach. Gideon had been here for the past weeks, fighting Kelly, sitting by his bedside, and he'd nearly forgotten that he wouldn't be returning home to DC with them, that he wasn't a part of the team anymore. He'd fit back in so well…

"And Garcia was telling me earlier about this program…Skype, I think it was called," Gideon said, taking note of Reid's marked disappointment. "Where we can video chat through the computer webcam…"

Reid bit back the urge to laugh at Gideon's ever present confusion toward most new technology.

"Sure, I know Skype," Reid said, his disappointment replaced with a growing hope. Perhaps he wouldn't lose Gideon again after all. Perhaps he wouldn't simply be a shadow of the past that dashed in during this time of trouble and dashed back out again.

"I know you tend to write letters, that kind of thing," Gideon went on, still looking unsure. "And we can do that too, but I was thinking we could arrange to use Skype once a week or so. Garcia said she would teach me the specifics."

Seeing the vulnerability in Gideon's eyes made Reid feel choked up, and he cleared his throat rather loudly, trying to compose himself before Gideon noticed, which Reid realized was probably largely impossible, given his profiling skills.

"I'd like that," Reid said quietly, a warmth spreading through him. He felt oddly safe around Gideon, which wasn't something he'd ever expected to experience again. He stared down at his covers, blinking furiously and attempting to deal with the torrent of emotions that he'd kept pent up, the emotions that Morgan had witnessed only a few days ago. _I'm a_ _blinker_, he'd told Garcia after Hotch came back from the Foyet stabbing.

He heard Gideon inch his chair forward, and felt his mind spinning with the memory of sitting in New Orleans, his heart ripped to shreds and telling Gideon he would never miss another plane.

"Are you…" Gideon began.

"Okay?" Reid finished for him. "No. But I will be. This time, I know that."

"I'm sorry Reid," Gideon whispered, his voice barely audible as he tentatively rested a hand on Reid's arm. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?" Reid asked, injecting a casual tone into his voice, a tone he was sure didn't come across.

"For leaving like I did," Gideon continued. "For not keeping in touch with you…for everything that's happened in the past few weeks. God only knows you didn't deserve it….and you didn't deserve what I did to you, either."

Reid was quiet for a moment, allowing the emotion to wash over him in waves, realizing that his happiness at being reunited with Gideon, at Gideon's promise to keep in touch regularly, outweighed the anger and sense of betrayal that he'd felt for so long.

The innate trust that once existed between them was slowly forming again, and that made Reid feel better than he had in days.

"You couldn't help what happened with Kelly," he said, looking back up at his mentor. "But you made the choice to come here, despite the past, despite everything. And that…that shows me just how much you wanted to make up for leaving the way you did…Am I right?"

A wry smile edged onto Gideon's lips, an almost paternal twinkle in his eye.

"When did you get so perceptive?" he asked, smile growing wider.

"I learned from the best," Reid responded, meeting Gideon's gaze.

"Actually," Gideon said, putting a hand on his protegee's shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "I think I learned more from you."

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Down the hallway and around the corner from Reid and Gideon, Chase awoke suddenly from another nightmare. His eyes flew open, he ghost of a scream on his lips. He sat up, trembling, wiping away the sweat on his brow with one hand. Kelly had entered his dreams again, wielding the bloody knife with a disturbing grin on her face. Gasping for breath, he turned to reach for the water jug and spotted a small cardboard cup with a familiar green logo, a pink post-it note stuck to the side. He pulled it off, a genuine smile forming when he spotted his wife's girlish penmanship. He knew that without her there was an excellent chance he might have fallen apart completely already:

_I know House has been going on about no caffeine for a few more days…but here's a decaf of the roast you like. Went with Foreman to get dinner and bring it back here._

_ Love you,_

_ ~ Allison_

Chase had barely lifted the coffee to his lips when the door slid open and House entered, a reprimand on his tongue. Chase tensed up, ready for what he was sure would be a battle. In light of all that had happened, House had gone into some kind of twisted overprotective mode, jumping down his employee's throat for the smallest action that could ever possibly endanger his recovery. Chase was eternally grateful for everything House had done for him in the past two weeks, knew that somehow all of this mess had brought them closer, but his boss' actions were sending his already high anxiety levels through the roof. Vague, hazy memories of his own hands grasping House's shirt, trembling and sobbing, flashed through his mind.

"What is that?" he asked slowly, a sure sign danger was ahead.

"Decaf French Roast," Chase said, taking a defiant sip. "You said no caffeine for a week more. God, you're more of a mother hen than Cameron and Wilson put together lately, which is not something I ever thought I'd hear myself say." His tone was teasing, but he knew House wouldn't miss the bite of impatience.

Chase made to take another sip, but was refused when the cup was suddenly smacked out of his hand, the still warm liquid landing on the floor and splattering violently. Chase opened his mouth to protest, but House instantly cut him off.

"What did I _say_ about clear liquids _only_? But _no_, you decided to be a smartass with your decaf. Idiot." He snarked, putting particular emphasis on the last familiar word, and Chase's cheeks flushed red in anger. This was House's screwed up way of caring, he knew, but what he didn't know was how to handle it.

"Says the man who left the hospital with a swollen _brain_ after getting into a bus crash, and then had a _heart_ attack in the same 24 hour period," Chase remarked "I've got a medical degree too, and I know a small cup of decaf coffee isn't going to hurt me. I get that you care, but this isn't a good way to show it. I've got enough to deal with and worry about without you shouting at me. I'm not a child."

House paused, mouth set into a firm line, knuckles tightening on his cane.

"You're not a child, huh?" House questioned, his voice taking on a rather icy quality. "Could have fooled me. But fine, if you want to defy my medical suggestions, then feel free. Go for it."

"House," Chase argued, softening a bit. "It's just decaf coffee…"

"That's not the point!" House shouted, interrupting him. But of course you don't understand that. You weren't here, waiting for days to know if your dumbass was alive or dead."

Chase's anger flared again, his temper shooting the roof, the words erupting out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"Well, maybe you would have liked it better if I'd died, then! Saved you the damn trouble of having to care about me in the aftermath."

House's eyes widened slightly and then narrowed, a cloud of pain colored with fury swirling in their depths.

"Maybe so! Now I have to deal with your PTSD and all the bullshit that goes along with it! And don't even get me _started_ on Cameron, she probably won't sleep for months with you waking up shrieking from nightmares."

Chase clenched his fists, his fingernails digging into the skin of his palms, heart pounding in his ears.

"_You_ have to deal with it?" he questioned, voice low. "I should have known you would make this about you. Because _you're_ the one who got kidnapped by a murderous psychopath!"

Before either of them could continue the door slid open again, revealing Morgan, two coffees in hand, on his way to visit Reid.

"Everything okay in here?" he asked, eyeing the spilled coffee on the floor.

"It's dandy," House muttered, stalking past Morgan and out the door, shooting one last glance at Chase, his emotions typically unreadable now when they'd been so volatile moments before. Morgan however, stayed put, pulling the door closed behind him and taking a seat next to Chase's bed.

"You alright man?" Morgan asked again.

"I…" Chase paused, daring to look Morgan in the eye and feeling his defenses start to shatter. "I don't know."

Morgan met Chase's tentative gaze, and for a fleeting moment, he saw Reid. But not his Reid, the Reid he'd watched grow more confident and comfortable in his skin by the day. Instead, he saw the shattered shell of man that Tobias Hankel left in Reid's place. He saw the anxiety-ridden boy, who despite his father's unforgiveable betrayal, so badly wanted to forgive... but didn't know how. He saw the nascent stages of something scary. Something transformative. Something that had to be stopped. And before he knew it, the edge of his chair was touching the rail of Chase's bed and Chase was looking at him with a mixture of apprehension, irritation, and pleading.

"You know it's going to be like this for a while, right?" he questioned gently.

"Like what?" Chase asked, suddenly looking away, feigning ignorance.

"You're going to hurt for a while, kid," he said, using the old term of endearment he so often used with Reid, guessing the Chase was somewhere in the middle of Reid's age and his own. "And I'm not talking about the physical pain you're in. And your boss, your wife, your friends…they're going to be overprotective for a while. Don't play dumb man, Dr. House might as well be giving people tours of the city: he's in major helicopter mode."

Chase looked at him again, looking skeptical, but underneath the mask he'd erected, it was clear he knew Morgan was right.

"House doesn't DO helicopter," he argued. "He just…he's House. He might care despite himself, but when he does, it's from a distance."

"Well," Morgan said slowly. "Then he's putting on quite the show today."

Chase didn't immediately respond, but looked back down at the covers, hands twisting the blankets, looking as lost as Reid had when he'd woken up in the hospital after they'd found him in the freezing Georgia woods, as lost as he'd looked the other day in the tiny hospital bathroom. But at least Morgan had seen a spark in Reid's eyes when he'd finally let his emotions pour fourth about everything that had happened in the past two weeks, at least Reid seemed to know that he could survive this because, terrible as it sounded, he had done so before. Not for the first time, Morgan cursed Kelly, cursed Tobias Hankel, cursed anyone who had ever dared to hurt Reid, then cursed Kelly again for what she'd done to Dr. Chase.

He wanted to at least light an ember in Chase's eyes.

"I know it might feel weird as hell to have a boss like yours so openly give a damn, but at least you're here so he CAN give a damn. Did you think about that?" Morgan asked, a slight reprimand in his tone even as it was still filled with a warm kindness that seemed to help bring down Chase's walls.

"Of course I've _bothered_," Chase responded. "It's all I've thought about ever since that scum-sucking witch kidnapped me. And that's what's so terrifying…I _did_ almost die. I watch people die and nearly die every day, I hold their lives in my hands, and yet when it comes to my own mortality…" he trailed off, swallowed up momentarily by his own pent up emotion.

Morgan paused, searching for the right words, for anything to make this shattered man in front of him feel the tiniest bit better. He remembered first meeting him two weeks ago, seeing the confidence and happiness in his stride as he'd walked up to greet the team, the glow in his eyes as he'd looked at Dr. Cameron, the easy friendship he shared with Dr. Foreman, the amused smile playing at his lips when House told a joke...but most of all he remembered how kind he'd been to Reid, how quickly the two struck up a friendship.

"Kid, I'm gonna be straight with you," Morgan began. "This experience - what you went through - it'll change you no matter what. That's a fact. But you," he paused when Chased looked away. "Look at me, Chase. _You_ are in control of what kind of change that entails. If you want, you can let this turn you into an old sorry son-of-a-bitch who couldn't care less about the happiness of other people…you can let the bitterness and the anger take over forever. Or, you can let this be a reminder to spend your days appreciating everything and everyone you have. Cause you know what? Unlike so many people who only _think_ they've been through a tragedy, you've _actually_ seen first-hand how cruel life can be. How you can be on top of the freaking world one second and under the unforgiving malice of another human being the next. You've got a mandate to be upset and angry for a while, but you can't let it overcome you. So this crazy bitch took a few days of your life. Don't let her take the rest, man…she's not worth it."

Chase held Morgan's gaze, the smallest hint of a smile forming on his face. It was a melancholy smile, but it was _there_.

"You're right," he whispered. "You're absolutely right. And it is her that's bothering me, but that's not all…It's House and his god-forsaken personality transplant. That's not my boss, Morgan. Allison being a mother hen, I understand. Wilson, I understand. Maybe even Foreman or Cuddy. But House…I know he cares, obviously, but this, I didn't expect this. It's like something broke in him, or something."

"You're right, Chase. That's not your boss," Morgan agreed, and Chase's eyes widened slightly in curiosity. "Just like this experience changed you, it changed him too. I've seen people with walls, but House's are a mile high, and it seems to me that he felt like he was submitting to weakness anytime he openly showed affection for someone, even for his best friend the oncologist."

Chase's smile widened slightly.

"You profilers are good, huh?" he asked.

"We are," Morgan teased lightly, but then continued. "But then you stepped into his life. And whether you meant to or not, you changed him, and the threat of losing you? That changed him even more. You wanna know who your boss is? Your boss is a man who - potentially for the first time in a really long time - realized how it would feel to lose something important. Something worthwhile. Something irreplacable. That man didn't change on his own. YOU changed him. Take a look, kid. That "change" you see is just proof that he cares. About _you_. About your presence in his life. " He poked Chase gently in the chest with one finger as he spoke, a grin turning up the corners of his mouth.

"He was pretty crazy while I was missing?" Chase asked, and Morgan saw the light in his eyes starting to spark.

Morgan nodded. "I half suspected him, your wife, and Dr. Foreman were coming up with a contingency plan if we weren't fast enough in finding you."

It was quiet for a moment as Chase processed Morgan's words, his grip on the blankets loosening.

"People care about you, Chase," Morgan said, speaking up again. "And I may not know all the details of what's happened in your life, but from what the profiler in me can gather, you've experienced some bad things and some hard times. But I can also tell that those things have only made a strong constitution stronger. You can do this. It will be hard for a while, it will hurt, and it will always be with you, but you will be okay. And you will be happy again."

Chase laughed softly, causing Morgan to raise his eyebrows.

"That's what Reid said, too," Chase said in response.

Morgan grinned wider.

The door slid open, diverting their attention to House, who entered with what looked suspiciously like a coffee in his hand, followed by Wilson, who caught Chase's eye and winked, a concerned but amused twinkle in his eye as he looked back at House.

House cleared his throat, standing a foot or so away from Chase's bed.

"I _may_," he said, emphasizing the second word. "Have been a _smidge_ melodramatic. And some people," he continued, shooting a glance over at Wilson. "Think I owe you a coffee."

He stepped forward and placed the cup on the nightstand, and Chase clearly couldn't stop himself from grinning.

"It's still decaf," House snapped, but it was much less harsh than before. "I was serious when I said no more caffeine for a week."

Chase nodded, taking a sip of the hot liquid before speaking again.

"Isn't Prescription Passion on, House?" he asked. "You could watch it in here, if you like. I've got the best TV on the floor."

Something akin to affection flickered in the diagnostician's eyes, and he sat down in the nearest chair, nicking some of the chocolate Cameron had brought earlier.

"Don't mind if I do," he said, taking the remote Chase handed him. "Come on Wilson, join us. How about you, Morgan?"

"Thanks for the invite," Morgan said, chuckling. "But I've gotta go to Reid before our section chief decides to interrogate him."

With that he rose and Chase nodded in thanks, a hint of light returned to his eyes. Morgan opened the door, running into Cameron and Foreman, who carried Chinese food in their hands. Cameron quirked one eyebrow as her eyes darted from the spilled coffee on the floor, to her husband and then to House, who were both laughing.

"They're watching a soap opera," Morgan said, and as he met her eye, Cameron seemed to sense that something had changed for the better. "Prescription Passion."

"Of course they are," she said, shaking her head, smiling. "Thank you, Agent Morgan. Tell Dr. Reid I'll be down to check on him after a bit."

"Will do, doc," Morgan said, waving at them as he walked down the hall to check on the BAU's resident genius.

CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE CM HOUSE

The day of Chase and Reid's release from the hospital dawned clear, bright, and cold. The BAU team stood outside by two standard black SUVs, each member donning sunglasses on this particularly cloudless day, cups of steaming coffee warming their hands.

Finally, they were going home.

Six pairs of eyes watched as the hospital's front doors swung open, revealing seven people, two of them slightly ahead of the others.

"Yes!" exclaimed House, who was going as fast as he could with his limp, leaning on the handles of Reid's wheelchair. "See, boy genius? I told you we would win the race."

"We were racing?" Cameron questioned, amused and exasperated all at once as she pushed Chase's wheelchair toward the group, Wilson, Cuddy, and Foreman following behind her.

"Duh, Cameron," House responded, rolling his eyes. "Whenever there are two or more people in wheelchairs it's always a race."

Reid and Chase shook their heads almost simultaneously, both chuckling but trying to hide it. Cameron reached down to pull Chase's coat more tightly around his shoulders; it was a bit bigger than usual because he'd lost a bit of weight, which was unsurprising given the circumstances. Chase caught her hand, squeezing it tightly before letting go.

"Oh, the sickies think I'm funny," House said. "Of course."

"I hate to interrupt," JJ said, one hand resting on her hip as she tried to curb a rather mischievous grin. "But I've got a surprise."

Reid took a profiler's glance around at his team, each of whom seemed to share JJ's grin. She opened one of the SUV doors and Will hopped out, carrying two-year-old Henry in tow.

"Unca' Spence!" he cried, waving his arms, blonde hair waving about in the breeze.

Reid felt his own smile reach his eyes as he put his own arms out for his godson, who instantly wrapped his arms around Reid's neck.

"We thought we'd surprise you, Spencer," Will said, the lilt of his New Orleans accent filled with glee.

"Thank you," Reid said, pulling back to look at the little boy. "Hey there Henry! How are you?"

"Missed you!" Henry said, burying his face in Reid's neck, as Reid wrapped his arms around Henry's middle, holding him close.

A flurry of activity broke out amongst the two teams, whose bond was now fused together rather indefinitely, tinged with the tragedy but also filled with the knowledge that they had emerged from it alive and together. Prentiss Garcia and JJ clustered around Cameron, exchanging phone numbers and emails, Morgan stood next to Chase and teased him about his taste in soccer teams, Rossi shared cooking tips with Wilson and Cuddy, and Hotch chatted with Foreman, showing him pictures of Jack on his phone. House stood back a bit, observing, before meeting Reid's eyes and making his way over.

"I didn't know you had a godson," he said, leaning slightly on his cane.

"Well, you don't know everything," Reid said, smirking.

"Blasphemy!" House said dramatically, putting a hand on his heart. He looked down at Henry, who was peering at him uncertainly. "So this is your godfather, huh kid?"

Henry nodded enthusiastically. "Unca' Spence fights bad guys like my mommy and daddy!"

"Well, I fight the things that make people sick," House said. "Isn't that cooler?"

Henry furrowed his eyebrows in such a comical fashion that Will, who was standing next to Reid's wheelchair, broke out into a fit of silent laughter.

"No," Henry replied, shaking his head. "The things that make people sick don't have guns."

"No," House muttered, but so low that Henry didn't hear. "But they can kill you just as easy."

Reid heard House's words however, and glanced down at House's injured leg, knowing it didn't take a profiler to realize what had made House into the man he was today. But Reid also knew that House, though perhaps not so angelic himself, was on the side of the angels; and as forcefully as he might have argued the point, saving lives meant more to him than the puzzle of the diagnosis.

"So I guess you'll have to come back to our grand hospital when you aren't such a lame sick person," House said.

Reid smirked. "But wouldn't that defeat the purpose?" he asked.

"I didn't mean so that we could hang around the hospital," House snarked. "I'm quite the partier, you know. I get all the ladies…even more than pretty boy over there," he said loudly, causing Chase to turn his head. "I could teach you all the tricks."

"If you get all the ladies then why am _I_ the married one and you're not?" Chase asked as Morgan laughed out loud at House's use of "pretty boy."

"I don't like to be tied down," House said as Morgan wheeled Chase closer to them. "Anyway, genius, I'm glad that crazy bitch didn't manage to kill you off. The world needs more mildly intelligent people in the world."

House started walking away, uncharacteristically squeezing Reid's shoulder ever so lightly as he went, causing Chase to look at him, eyebrows raised.

"Don't look at me in that tone of voice, wombat," he snapped, but affection was prominent in his tone.

Morgan had gone to talk to Foreman and Hotch, leaving Chase and Reid alone a short distance from everyone else. Reid handed a now sleepy looking Henry to Will, who walked away, giving the two men a moment.

"I see you and House are getting along again," Reid remarked.

Chase nodded. "We're just both so used to things being a certain way, to keeping our walls up; he didn't know how to handle almost losing me because it meant he had to actually _show_ me he cares. And as Morgan said, I didn't know how to handle what was essentially his helicopter parenting." Chase grinned. "House with kids…I can't even imagine."

Reid laughed, shaking his head. House was already like a slightly twisted father figure to his fellows, even if he was loathe to admit such a thing.

"Thank you for saving me from," Chase breathed in, hesitating before saying Kelly's name as if the word itself would cause her to reappear. But he pushed forward. "For saving me from Kelly. I wouldn't be here today otherwise."

"I don't know how much help I was," Reid answered. "I was unconscious through part of it," he joked.

"I might not have known you for very long," Chase responded, running a hand through his hair. "But I know you well enough to realize that you helped with my case until you absolutely couldn't anymore. And plus, it's nice to know that you understand what I'm going through…that you told me your own story." He met Reid's eyes, giving him a small smile.

Reid was silent for a moment, feeling Dr. Cameron's eyes on Chase and himself as she continued chatting with the girls. He spied a tired but hopeful smile on her face out of the corner of his eye before she turned back around.

"Well, you helped save my life," Reid said. "Your diagnosis was right from the beginning. So I'd say we're even." He grinned, and Chase returned it, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket.

"I know you mentioned that the phones and the postal system between DC and Jersey works pretty well, so here's my information," he said, looking a bit sheepish. "I'll try not to bother you too often. But I feel like you'll understand what I'm going through better than any therapist I might find."

"Bother me as often as you like," Reid said sincerely, pulling a similar piece of paper out of his own pocket and handing it Chase. "We're friends, aren't we?"

"We are," Chase agreed, and Reid noticed the hint of a light in his eyes, a light that he hadn't seen since Chase returned. "Friends."

Both men jumped in their wheelchairs as a banging sound alerted them to the presence of the rest of the group; in order to get everyone's attention House banged his cane against the door of one of the SUVs, causing Hotch to send him an extremely irritated glare.

"Can I get everyone's attention for a second?" he asked so loudly that no one could ignore him.

Everyone turned, curious but unsurprised at his antics, and House cleared his throat in a dramatic fashion before speaking again.

"As I was saying, I just wanted to take a moment to thank you all for being here. It's not every day that average people can experience this much brilliance in one location, and I must say (looks directly at Hotchner), I applaud your men-in-black wannabes and their decision to soak up that brilliance, here, at my fortress."

The entire group stared at him.

"House," Cameron asked, looking both annoyed and amused. "Are you high?"

"Don't be ridiculous Cameron," House snorted. "You know I love giving speeches. I don't need Vicodin to do that."

"More than Spence loves to ramble?" JJ teased, turning to glance at Reid.

"I do _not_ ramble," Reid argued, knowing it was all good-natured ribbing. "I just give information."

"Actually you do ramble," House said. "A lot. And I'm a doctor, so I should know."

"I'm a doctor too," Reid shot back. "So where does that leave us, exactly?"

"At my fortress," House said in a very matter of fact tone. "Where I'm always right."

Reid shook his head, trying to hide his smile. He glanced around at the group, joy swelling in his chest and chasing away the melancholy for a moment, enjoying the fact that they were all alive, alive and mostly whole. He and Chase would be okay, he knew, if only because they had the support of the truly unique people who surrounded them right now.

"Giving up the argument already, huh Reid?" Prentiss asked, surprised. "That's not like you."

"Emily, everyone knows there's no point in negotiating with loud-mouth sociopaths who suffer from intense, yet totally unjustified god-complexes," Reid said, looking up to House with his best smart-ass smirk. Next to him, Chase tried to prevent himself from doubling over in laughter.

House chuckled, entertained. "Whatever, smarty-pants-on-fire. If anything, God has a House complex."


	22. Coda: Epilogue

Variation on a Theme

A Criminal Minds/House, M.D. Crossover

Coda: Epilogue

_"There's an average of 40 moves per chess game, and I'll tell you something, the more I played, the more I realized that every single match, every single chess game, it's really just a simple variation on the exact same theme; aggressive opening, patient midgame, inevitable checkmate." ~ Dr. Spencer Reid_

3 months later…

Reid rapped on the glass door to House's office because he hadn't seen anyone in the conference room. House looked up, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise over the tops of his reading glasses. He tossed aside the medical journal he was reading, which looked oddly as though it was written in Hindi, and nodded at Reid to come inside.

"Boy genius," House said, warm amusement in his voice. "What brings you to our humble hospital? You don't look sick, so…"

"I do have a name you know," Reid said, a small grin on his features. "I came to see Dr. Chase, but he wasn't in the conference room."

"He's breaking into our patient's home with Foreman," House said. "Because the guy is a lying liar who lies. Going to arrest me?"

"Off duty," Reid quipped, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag. "Do you know when he'll be back?"

"Within the hour probably," House answered. "Checking up on him?"

"Something like that," Reid replied.

"You've been writing letters and making phone calls," House said without pause, causing Reid to open his mouth a little in surprise, furrowing his eyebrows.

"How did you know that?"

"I may or may not have invited myself over to Chase and Cameron's for dinner," House said, twirling a pen in his hands. "And I may or may not have gone through his mail. Trying to be his therapist or something?"

"No," Reid said, a smidge guarded now. "I just know what he's going through, and when it happened to me, I wanted nothing more than to talk to somebody who understood how I felt, because even though my team was always there for me, it was almost impossible to articulate what I'd experienced. It's gotten easier the farther from the experience I get, but right after it happened…" he trailed off.

"I told him to take two months off _after_ his month of physical recovery," House said, not requiring any further explanation, his eyes fully contemplating the young man before him. "And he came back two weeks early, the idiot. Did Hotchner make you take time off? He seems like he would."

"Two months," Reid said. "Standard procedure for psychopaths sneaking into your life and trying to kill you. The actually nearly dying part added a week onto my sentence."

"What a smart ass remark!" House exclaimed slyly. "I'm impressed, and that's hard to do. Cameron's in the lab, if you want to go pester her."

"I took a class at the FBI academy about being a smart ass," Reid replied with a smirk. "And if you could point me in the direction of the lab, I'll go and talk to Dr. Cameron."

"Down the hall and to the left," House said. "It says 'pathology' in big silver letters. I'm guessing a genius like you can probably find it?"

"I think so," Reid said, shaking his head and not bothering to hide his amusement. He turned to go, spinning on his heel when House spoke again.

"Come back before you go," House said, the faux-innocence in his voice indicating that he was probably up to something. "And bring Cameron with you. I've got a proposal."

"Can't you just…tell me now?" Reid asked, raising one eyebrow, intrigued despite himself.

"Nope," House said simply. "Go on now. Did you bring any of your fellow men in black wannabe colleagues with you?"

"JJ," Reid answered, hand on the door. "She wanted to see Dr. Cameron."

House nodded in acknowledgment, making shooing motions at Reid with his hands.

Reid stepped out, shifting his messenger bag to avoid grazing it against his finally healed stab wound. Stepping through these halls triggered unpleasant memories of his illness, but he shoved them away, focusing instead on the moments he'd spent forging new friendships with House and his team.

That was what he tried to do, anyway.

The team, his family, had been more supportive than ever, and they'd done their best to balance their fierce protective natures along with his need to have space.

And this time, they weren't afraid to confront him if they felt he was slipping in his recovery from the whole ordeal, and they knew that asking him how he was wouldn't break him.

Because he could do this.

If Reid knew anything about himself, it was that he was impressively resilient. Did he have scars? Undoubtedly so.

But he could also rise up with the best of them.

He spotted a familiar blonde ponytail through the glass door to the lab and knocked, thinking he probably shouldn't enter unless prompted. Cameron turned around, a pleased smile on her face. She waved and gestured for him to enter.

"Hi, Spencer!" she greeted him, turning back to her testing equipment. "Give me just one second, let me just start running this gel really quickly."

He watched as she dropped the liquid and shut the lid, sliding off her protective glasses and watching, a small frown replacing her smile.

"Hmm," she said, contemplative. "Not what we thought. Not surprising though, it was only our first diagnosis."

"And in these kinds of cases, the first diagnosis is rarely correct," Reid replied, hearing House's familiar words echo in his mind.

She smiled again.

"You learn quick," she said.

"So I've been told," he quipped. "Sorry to interrupt you during the day, but JJ and I caught an earlier flight."

"I'm so glad she came with you," Cameron said, pushing open the door and leading him back in the direction of the diagnostics office. "Where is she?"

"At the hotel," Reid said, following her lead. "She was up a bit late with Henry, apparently. I told her to take a quick nap."

"Kids will do it every time," she said, and Reid felt her eyes on him, looking for any remaining signs of physical ailment, something to which doctors were obviously prone.

"Your letters and phone calls have helped Robert so much," she blurted, something she'd clearly been waiting to say. "He's been doing better lately. Less nightmares. And knowing someone personally who has been where he's been…that's been irreplaceable. It gives him something to hold onto."

"I'm glad I can help," Reid said, spotting Chase and Foreman in the conference room as they approached. "I know that's all I wanted when it happened to me…someone to talk to who'd been through it. Empathy is a powerful thing."

"It is," she said, nodding in agreement.

They entered and Chase turned around to face them; Reid immediately noticed how much color had returned to his cheeks. He looked skinnier still, than when they'd met, but he'd gained weight since he left the hospital, and that was always a good sign.

"Reid," he said, stepping forward and shaking Reid's hands warmly, a gesture which Reid returned wholeheartedly. "You made it unscathed, huh? Even without the private jet?"

Reid laughed, waving to Foreman who smiled in greeting.

"Fair point, we do get spoiled with the jet, but commercial wasn't too bad," he said, sticking his hands in his pockets. "And besides, taking commercial flights for pleasant trips is much better than taking them for cases. Although I don't care much for the germs that run rampant on airplanes…"

"Geez, enough already with all the sappiness," House said, cutting in on what was sure to be a Reid-rant on the statistics of germs in commercial airplanes. "What I want to know is if you two," he said, pointing at Reid and Chase. "Are so attached at the hip that you're coordinating wardrobes. Did I miss something, or are sweater vests popular again?"

Reid looked across at Chase's navy and green striped sweater vest, still visible under his lab coat, then down at his own dark purple version.

"Great minds think alike'?" Reid asked, shrugging his shoulders in response.

"Great geeks, more like," House said, and Chase sent him a glare, narrowing his eyes, but still looking the tiniest bit amused. "So," he said switching gears. "What is the mod squad up to tonight?" There was a curiosity in his tone that was anything but innocent, and Reid saw Chase catch Cameron's eye, while Foreman looked concerned but also very much like he was trying to stop himself from laughing.

"We were…going to have dinner?" Cameron said slowly, unsure. "Since Spencer and JJ are here?"

"Why are you phrasing it like a question?" House asked. "You either are or you aren't. I'll be there at six."

Cameron's eyes widened, and Reid saw ghosts of the previous dinners House mentioned earlier in her eyes, but still clearly didn't have the heart to tell him no. And neither did Chase, not after what they'd all been through three months ago, all they continued to go through.

"You can come," Chase said, one hand resting on his hip. "But no playing with the candles…last time you almost set the cat on fire and he still hasn't recovered."

"And no red wine in the living room," Cameron added, furrowing her brow. "I'm still getting those spots out."

"And…" Chase started saying, but House abruptly cut him off.

"Jesus Christ, I get it, I get it, shut up already!" he exclaimed. "Man, you two are picky about your house guests' behavior."

"Actually I think they just want to keep their condo in one piece," Foreman said, rolling his eyes. "I think Wilson's damn lucky you haven't destroyed the loft yet. I still can't believe he lets you live there."

"I just got out of the loony bin, Foreman," House said, poking his employee with the edge of his flame-lined cane. "I couldn't live on my own, I might go nuts again, or something. So insensitive. You don't want me to turn into the next serial killer the BAU has to chase, do you?"

Reid smiled broadly, seeing the team he'd come to care for, the team that saved his life, coming together and returning to normal after such horrors had plagued them, after they nearly lost one of their own. Chase chuckled, turning away from Cameron and Foreman, who were still bantering with House, and stepping closer to Reid, eyeing the edge of the book that spilled from the top of Reid's messenger bag.

"Gideon still teaching you to play piano via Skype?" Chase asked, pointing to the book.

"He is, yeah," Reid answered, touching the book, remembering his weekly Skype sessions with Gideon, the last of which Morgan also attended. "It's interesting, I never really thought about playing an instrument, and I always said playing piano was just a lot of math really, but it's…it's so much more than that."

Chase nodded. "I started playing violin when I was a kid, and I actually picked it up again. It's been helpful…I forgot how much I loved it, actually."

"The violin and Mixed Martial Arts classes are a balm for the soul, huh?" Reid teased, referencing the classes he knew Chase was taking to improve his self-defense skills should anything ever happen again.

"Apparently so," Chase said, grinning at him, the far-away look in his eyes still there but much less prominent than before.

It was progress.

"House plays piano," Chase added. "You should get him to show you a few things."

"I heard that," House called from the other side of the room. "And how, pray tell, am I supposed to teach genius here the piano if we eat dinner at your place, where there is not, in fact, a piano?"

"I have a keyboard," Chase protested.

"Blasphemy," House said, but Reid instantly noticed the smile threatening his lips while he looked at Chase, though he clearly tried to suppress it. He turned to Reid. "Now get out of my office, kid, you're such a distraction. If we're going to have a happy family meal together tonight we need to solve our case."

Several hours later Reid got a text from Chase, telling him that the case was solved without much more incident (aside from the patient's wife slapping House in the face, but what was new about that?) and that dinner was on as scheduled. So at quarter of six sharp, Reid knocked on the condo door, JJ at his side holding fresh lilies, which she'd found out were Cameron's favorite. He knocked and moments later Chase answered, dressed hilariously in a red apron, a dusting of flour on his cheek.

"You're just in time," he said, opening the door to let them in before turning to JJ. "Hey there JJ, how are you?"

"Just fine," she answered, leaning in to give him a brief hug. "You look good," she said sincerely, privy to a great deal of the struggles he'd experienced over the past months after talking to Cameron on a fairly regular basis.

"So you traded the sweater vest in for an apron?" Reid asked, raising one eyebrow.

"House started teaching me a couple of weeks ago," Chase said, leading them through the hall and into the open kitchen/dining room. Sometimes he cooks when his leg hurts, so he thought it might help."

"He's not wrong," Reid answered, watching as JJ hugged Cameron enthusiastically, immediately chatting about something. "Cooking has been proven to have therapeutic benefits for some people who experience trauma."

"I read that after House started teaching me," Chase said, moving behind the counter and the dessert he was attending. "I was never much of a cook before," he said, glancing over at Cameron with a smile. "And neither was Allison, really, we just made basic stuff and ordered in a lot. But I think I like this better. I don't know how much time I'll have now that I'm back at work, but I'm going to try."

"So how is being back at work?" Reid asked. "I know you went back earlier than anticipated."

Chase's face darkened slightly, a cloud covering his eyes as he slowed the rolling pin.

"At first I wanted the hell away from the hospital for a while, and as you know, Cuddy gave both Cameron and I the temporary leave of absence after I physically recovered," he said, and for a moment Reid saw him as he'd been right after they'd found him, frightened and shivering with terrible memories. "And at first it was wonderful to just be home. But after a while all the time that wasn't filled with friends coming by or Allison and I going somewhere, the quiet spaces…they were filled with thoughts of what happened. The martial arts and the cooking helped, but in the end, I just needed to get back to work."

"Our jobs are a part of us," Reid said softly.

"They are," Chase said, using the rolling pin again. "I guess I just need the distraction, I needed to know I was helping other people… it made me feel better. I guess it's selfish."

"No," Reid said, shaking his head. "Not even close."

"You've been on a couple of cases since you've been back, right?" Chase asked. "How was that?"

"It was a little easier going back this time than it was with Tobias Hankel, but it still was harder than I wanted it to be," Reid admitted. "But Hotch adamantly refused to let me come back as soon as I wanted, said he made that mistake when the Tobias ordeal happened and that I'd racked up more vacation time than anyone he knew. And he wasn't wrong…taking that time off to recover a bit psychologically made a difference. But my empathy for the victims…it just grew more."

Chase nodded, glancing over at the oven as it signaled that the steaks were ready.

"I can't even watch crime shows just yet," Chase said, pulling the pan out. "Too many flashbacks."

"All those crime shows are the same anyway," JJ piped up as she and Cameron joined the men. "Not even close to how the real thing works."

It fell quiet for a moment While Cameron tended to the potatoes and Chase to the steak, and Reid noticed JJ's eyes watching the couple intently, smiling when Cameron gently brushed the flour from her husband's face and Chase didn't flinch in the slightest. In fact, he leaned over to kiss her cheek.

Chase was still recovering, that was for certain, but Reid was glad to see with his own eyes that Kelly hadn't ruined the relationship between the couple, that Cameron could now touch her husband without him jumping away in terror. Letters and phone calls conveyed a lot of things, but witnessing this moment in person was inherently more powerful. A loud knock at the door broke the serenity of the moment, and when Chase answered the door House was already armed with a snarky comment.

"My, don't you look domestic! Never thought I'd see this from the king of Chinese take-out."

"Be quiet or I'll send out all those pictures I snapped of you in _your_ apron when you came over to teach me how to cook," Chase quipped, and although House feigned horror, Reid also noticed the clear glint of pride in the older doctor's eyes. Chase could stand nearly toe to toe with House, and few people were capable of such a feat.

"Don't tease me about my apron, chef boy," House said, stepping in with a bottle of scotch in hand. "Tease Wilson, it's his. Like I'd have something that said 'kiss the chef.' As if."

Foreman arrived soon after House, and the six of them sat down to dinner while the sun set in the New Jersey sky, sheaves of sunlight mixing in with shadow through the window. Reid glanced at the stripes created by the blinds; dark, light, dark, light. It was kind of like life, he mused, light always mixing with the dark, the dark mixing with the light. He'd met this team because of something monumentally dark, but now here he was, sharing something with them as normal as dinner.

He couldn't help but think that their meeting was for the best.

He couldn't help but be glad that he'd gained new friends, especially in Chase.

He couldn't help but be glad that he helped Chase through, that JJ helped Cameron through, that House finally admitted that he very much cared about his fellows.

Kelly appeared in his mind, a sadistic smirk curving her lips upward.

"_I'll always be there, Spencer," _she said, taunting him_. "I might be dead but the memory of what I did to you? Of what I did to Dr. Chase? It will always be there. With the both of you. With your teams."_

"_The memory will be there," _Reid said silently, taking the final bite of his steak_. "But that doesn't mean we'll let it destroy us…we'll only let it make us stronger. We'll only let it make us better at what we all do; saving lives."_

The mental image vanished with one last scowl, and for a moment Reid remembered Kelly circling him with the knife, her breath hot on his neck, remembered Chase breaking down in the hospital room, terrified she would find him again.

Then he remembered the team kicking open the door and pulling Kelly to justice, remembered them surrounding him during the days after Kelly's death, refusing to leave his side, remembered watching Chase recover, watching him fight his fear and let Cameron into the pain of his experience, and navigating the new rawness of his relationship with House.

He focused on the good to wipe out the evil.

House broke out the Glen Livet scotch (because why would anyone drink anything else, he said) and beckoned Reid and Chase over. He took the tumblers Chase handed him and poured three servings, since Foreman and the girls declined, preferring to go for the wine. He handed one to Reid, who looked unsure.

"I'll pass," he said with a wave of his hand. "I don't do much hard liquor."

"No passing allowed boy genius," he said, forcing the tumbler into the younger man's hands. We're drinking to something.'

Cameron, JJ, and Foreman joined their semi-circle with their wine glasses in hand, and House raised his glass.

"To staying alive," he said, and Reid detected seriousness in his tone before he broke into a grin, glancing in turn at the two men beside him. "And to saving the asses of these two pretty boys," he continued, sounding nonchalant even if he was anything but.

"I'll drink to that," Chase agreed, winking at Cameron. "I happen to think I have a fabulous ass."

This sounded infinitely more hilarious in the Australian accent, and Reid nearly spit out his scotch.

"Here, here!" Cameron exclaimed, winking at him, a slight blush in her cheeks.

Reid felt JJ slip her arm into the crook of his elbow, thinking of the offer Will and Morgan had come up with; he wanted to learn more about hand to hand combat in the (seemingly likely) case of something like this happening again, and they'd offered to take turns doing sessions with him.

He was going to take them up on it.

He always depended on his brain and that wouldn't ever change, but now he wanted to try depending on his body, too. He wasn't the biggest or the strongest guy, but he was quick. Plus, his aim had vastly improved over the years.

Stephen King once said that sometimes the monsters won, and Reid knew that was true, but as he looked on at the happy, healing scene before him, he vowed to prevent that for as long as he lived.

A/N: Well, there it is, the final chapter! I do hope you enjoyed it! Thank you a thousand times over to everyone who has stuck with me during this story, to everyone who has read, reviewed, alerted, or favorite…you guys give me the inspiration to keep writing. Now, for some news: due to some requests and because I've had such an amazing time writing this story, I'm working on putting together a sequel, and some the of the details are coming together now. I need to get through NanoWrimo (I'm working on a memoir) and need to get closer to finishing another House fic I'm working on, but then I will start work on the sequel to this, which will take place roughly a year after the epilogue; it will involve House, Chase, Cameron, and Foreman (and maybe Wilson) coming down to Quantico/DC to serve as medical consultants on a BAU case that soon spirals into a potential national crisis.

So be on the lookout for the tentatively titled "A Second Variation" and thank you again!


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